Blood Red Riding Hood
by Crystal Dawn
Summary: Red Riding Hood AU for ZackRay Month 2k18! Rachel Gardner wanders the woods alone at night in a red hood, looking for her own death. When she finds it, however, her death has other plans.
1. Chapter 1: Blood Red

The forest was deathly silent as the girl with the hooded red cloak wound her way through the trees. Her footfalls were the only sound in the eerie stillness. The crunch of leaves or the snap of a twig underfoot was that much louder with nothing else to mask it. It was late fall, dusk, and chilly, but even that did not explain the quiet. No birds sang, no squirrels chattered, even the cold wind was still. To the blonde girl, this wasn't much different than her village now. Perhaps she had cursed this forest, too.

The village, which lay on the other side of the entrance to these woods, was now officially deserted. God's punishment had descended upon it, laying waste in a matter of weeks. Crops molded in the fields, the hands that would have harvested them now cold and stained with the evidence of the judgment that had taken them. Rachel Gardner, the seventeen-year-old maiden walking the woods, had that same judgment upon her, too. But instead of laying forever still in her cold bed back home like the rest of her village, she now wandered the woods like a phantom. Hands bruised with evidence of her recent illness, she clutched at her cloak as she continued on, shielding herself from the cold.

She could barely bring herself to think about those morbid things, though. She was barely thinking at all. As such, a sudden movement close behind startled her back into herself. Turning, her cape barely shifting about her body, she could see nothing behind her. The light was weak now, almost completely gone, but someone – _something_ – had certainly just been there. The only real evidence was a single dead leaf dancing in the air. She watched it, weighing exactly what it could mean.

Heart beating in her ears, Rachel slowly turned back the way she had been going. She felt it before she saw it, hot puffs in the cold evening air. Its breath hit her cheek, tempting her to shut her eyes tightly so she wouldn't have to see her impending demise. She kept them open instead, sliding them reluctantly towards the predator.

The first thing she was struck by was just how large it was. The creature absolutely dwarfed her by comparison, causing her to shrink back a half-step. It towered above her as she fell in its shadow; she didn't even come up to its shoulder. Finally gathering the courage to lift her eyes fully, she dared look at its face.

Its face was vaguely human shaped, hooded with some kind of cloak. The hood only deepened the evening shadows, rendering its face inscrutable. The only things she could make out were a row of sharp white teeth and two burning red eyes. As it breathed, wisps of steam escaped its fangs and the two red embers were fixed on her. Despite herself, Rachel trembled.

"Little girl," it growled, "Didn't your parents tell you to stay outta the woods at night? There's wolves out here." Rachel stared, frozen. The voice was scratchy, grave, and male. The threat lying under the surface of his words was evident. She managed a hesitant step backwards, but he followed, making the gap between them even smaller. He cocked his head to the side and she could see a decidedly canine ear twitch at top of his hood. He wasn't human.

"I always like a little exercise before dinner," he continued, "but you humans don't run too fast. That's why I'm gonna give ya a three second head start. Better start runnin' if ya don't wanna get eaten!" Rachel's blue eyes widened as an unbidden pang of fear struck her heart. The wolf man held up three fingers on his right hand; each finger was tipped with a wicked black claw. The moon hadn't risen yet, but whatever light remained glinted keenly off the curves of those talons. Each one was surely as deadly as a knife.

Even seeing that, her feet felt heavy. It wasn't until he began counting that the reality of the situation set in. If Rachel didn't run, she was going to be this wolf's dinner. And although she knew she deserved that fate and had actually come to this forest specifically to fulfil that fate, suddenly coming face-to-face with the reality of it caused her to panic. Her survival instinct rebelled against her guilt and morality; by the time the wolf lowered one finger and sounded out his "three", she had turned and fled through the leaf litter.

True to his word, the wolf dutifully counted out "two" and "one" before bolting into the forest behind her. With a delighted howl, he gave chase. He was fast, faster than any human, especially one weak from illness and hunger like Rachel was. She didn't need to see him chase her. That would only distract her and slow her down. Besides, he was making no effort to hide his noise; it was easy to tell where he was just from the racket he was making. His racing footsteps, his maniacal laughter, his howl, and her blood pounding in her ears all served to nearly deafen Rachel.

Since there was no way to out run him, Rachel knew she had to find a place to hide. She was too short to climb any of the bare trees she passed by, and if she hid under a pile of leaves he could certainly find her by scent. But as she ran, she could vaguely make out a large, dark shape on the other side of the copse she was traveling through. She hadn't been keeping careful track of where she was, but she had a sharp memory. If she was correct, that would have been the home of the village doctor who lived on the outskirts of town.

Wasting no time, Rachel poured the last of her energy into sprinting towards the cabin's dark porch. The house was dark, leading her to believe that its resident, Danny, was out on a house call. They weren't close – she usually only saw him to fetch hangover medicine for her father – but she doubted he would begrudge her a hiding place for the moment.

Mounting the porch, Rachel stretched a hand towards the front door. As she pushed it open, she thanked God that it hadn't been locked. A second later, she heard a heavy footstep stomp onto the bottom wooden step. He was there close behind her now. Rachel couldn't hold back a gasp as she felt his clawed fingers brush the back of her cloak. But she was just a fraction of a second fast enough; she passed through the door and quickly slammed it behind her. Without wasting a single second, she fastened the deadbolt. It wasn't a moment too soon; he was trying to tear the doorknob off. There was a large wooden bar set off to the side of the door; with a little luck, Rachel was able to leverage herself to be able to drop it into the slots on either side of the door frame. After a few more moments, the noise stopped and Rachel was able to slump against the door and slide to the floor. She watched helplessly as a shadow quickly moved across the light from the front windows and then vanished.

Why was she afraid? This was what she'd come to the woods for. She knew when she first set foot out here that this was what happened to people who traveled at night through the forest. Well, not entirely; knowing something was likely to result in death was not the same as knowing exactly how it would happen. Her reaction to being face-to-face with that man-eater was probably utterly normal.

She was just such a coward. She should have stood firm and let the wolf devour her. It was what she deserved for bringing that awful judgment to their village. It was what she deserved for surviving when everyone else had died. Had she any tears left, she might have cried then. But there was nothing left.

After a minute or two, her heartrate and breathing returned to normal and Rachel was able to look around. She was in the front room of the doctor's cabin, where he would meet with the villagers when they called on him. There were all the normal accoutrements of a drawing room: chairs, books, shelves. Set amongst jars of salve and dried herbs, she found a candle and a silver tinder box on the table underneath the window (it was a miracle the wolf didn't try to break it). After another few moments, she had a small, strong light.

Moving further back into the cabin was probably for the better. If she was away from windows, there was less chance the wolf might see her and attempt to break the doctor's property. She could move on to her death tomorrow, after she had apologized properly to the doctor for coming in uninvited. To that end, there was a door set against the back wall of the waiting room, so that was the best place to start.

Rachel had never been back there. She assumed it was a living space, or maybe a more private operating area. What she wasn't expecting exactly was for the door to open into a fairly narrow hallway with a staircase off to her left. The wall directly across from her held three doors. She figured the best door to start with was directly across from her and when she heard a door shut on the other side of it, that sealed the issue. Someone was in there. Was the doctor home after all?

Rachel turned the doorknob and slowly cracked the door open. This room was dark, also. The only light came in through a window on the far side of the room, which was set into the wall beside the back door. A bed with curtains occupied the middle of the room, and tables holding various medical instruments lined the walls. This must have been an operating room. And there, standing before the window, was the doctor.

"Doctor?" Rachel asked softly. Although her candle illuminated the parts of the room closest to her, the doctor was still in deep shadow, silhouetted by the rising moon outside

"What?" he replied, voice scratchy. Rachel's eyebrows pinched together.

"You sound hoarse," she nearly whispered.

"My throat's dry."

Then she caught sight of the doctor's hands.

"What… big hands…"

"The better to catch you with…"

He began to turn away from the window and Rachel felt her heart thump in her ears. The candlelight reflected off his pupils. The moon glinted off his canines as he smiled.

"What big... teeth…"

"The better to eat you with!"

Rachel took a step back and felt her foot connect with something soft and firm. Before she could register what she'd just stepped on, the door was slammed shut behind her and she was knocked to the ground. Her candle was knocked out of her hand in a single strike. It fell to the polished wood floor, rolling away from her. Just before it sputtered out, she saw what had nearly tripped her; the doctor's open glass eye glinted in the candlelight, his face a stiff mask of death. She only saw it for a second, but he was definitely many days dead and covered in dark black spots. She had probably stepped on his hand. The judgment had already claimed him.

That was the least of her problems, though. The wolf was straddled across her waist, holding her down with his weight. Before she could react, he'd clamped her wrists to the floor with his clawed hands. A few drops of his drool landed on her cheek, causing her to flinch and whimper.

 _Don't look away. Don't hide this time. Face God's judgment. You deserve this. This will absolve the sin. You deserve this._

"You're so bony!" he cackled, "But beggars can't be choosers, right? It's almost winter, pickin's are slim! Hey, you can cry if you wanna! Gimme a little light dinner music, girl!"

Rachel stilled and kept her eyes on him. She could see him a little better now. His face was wrapped in bandages, with a slash of black hair falling out of his hood. There was no muzzle or maw; his features were human as far as she could see. The scarce light reflected off his eyes, making them glow. But her first impression of his teeth had been mostly correct; they were white, sharp, and could most definitely rend her flesh. But his expression was changing now, from one of delight to something else. The longer she looked at him, the unhappier he looked.

"What the hell, girl? Did I scare you too much to cry? Stop bein' fuckin' boring!"

"I'm ready," she said, a preternatural calm falling over her, "You can eat me now." It only took a moment for him to register what she'd just said. His weight vanished from her body so fast that she gasped. His ears flattened against his hood as he recoiled and she could see a look of disgust overtake his expression.

"Like hell I will now!" he snarled. "No human ever offered a wolf anything with no strings attached! I might be a dumbass, but I'm not a sucker!" Rachel stared up at him from the floor with wide eyes. Just like that, he wasn't going to eat her? Had she escaped her well-deserved death a third time? Her body took a moment to respond, as though she was waiting for permission to move. When he turned away and stomped towards the bed, Rachel figured it would be alright to sit up.

"You… aren't going to eat me?" she asked, confused and a little hurt. The wolf flopped onto the edge of the doctor's bed, slouching forward to rest his hands on his knees. His tail swished behind him in frustration; Rachel had just noticed the fluffy black appendage, seeing it was dirty and matted as well. He cast a shining golden glare at her.

"I ain't _that_ stupid," he growled. "You probably got a huntsman waitin' to cut me open hidin' in here, doncha?" Rachel stood and gave him a blank look as she rubbed her sore wrist. "Or you'll poison me if I eat you!"

"That doesn't even make sense," she protested, following him over to the bed. Rather than sit with him, she knelt on the floor before his feet. Looking up at him, she clasped her hands like a prayer. "It's alright to eat me. That's why I came out to these woods. I deserve it, so…"

"What the _fuck_ ," he growled, scooting back from the eerie girl. "Go back home, kid. If you wanna die so bad, go drown yourself or somethin'!" The disgust in his expression was evident.

"I need to submit to God's judgment," she whispered. "I can't take things into my own hands. Besides… I can't go back. No one is left in the village."

The wolf froze. His eyes narrowed. Where before they had shone with disgust and revulsion, they were beginning to shine with another emotion. Rachel could swear that now he looked angry. She tilted her face just slightly in curiosity, a strand of white-gold hair falling between her eyes. Before she could ask, however, his clawed and bandaged hand shot out and grabbed her face. It covered her mouth, latching onto her jaw from the front. Rachel's eyes widened and she let out a small squeak as his grip tightened. He stood from the bed and she then found herself being dragged to her feet by her face.

"Don't lie to me, kid," he growled. "There's no way that town is empty."

"I'm not… I'm not lying to you…"

Her voice was muffled under his hand, but her words were understandable enough. Feebly, she tried to pull his hand away, but the difference in their strength was apparent. Even though he wasn't actually hurting her, his grip was still like an iron vise. At this point, his outstretched arm was even supporting her entire weight; he had lifted her high enough for her toes to just graze the floor.

Then, just as suddenly, he put her down.

"If you're lyin' to me, I'll gut you," he ground out, stepping up to her. Rachel gingerly rubbed her jaw while he towered over her again. It was hard not to be scared of him, but she steeled herself once again.

"So if I tell a lie, you'll kill me?"

"Don't go gettin' any ideas, you little weirdo," he grumbled. "I still don't believe you. So I'm goin' to check the town right now."

"Oh… Goodbye, then."

"Whaddaya mean 'goodbye'?" He passed her while she looked on, stunned silent. Without warning, his hand shot back towards her, clutching her cloak where it attached under her chin. Rachel gasped as her feet began to slide against the floor, being drug along behind the huge wolf.

"You're comin' with me."

"Wh-Why?" It was really all she could stammer out. If he wasn't going to eat her, and he was obviously repulsed by her, why would he want her to come along?

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, his voice now more casual than really angry.

"No?"

"If the town is still there, I'm gonna kill you for lyin' to me," he explained with a grin. "And if it's not, I'll need some food supplies for the winter."

"I don't know where everyone kept their stores," she murmured, puzzled. It wasn't as if there was much to eat back at her house, either. Did this wolf even eat anything other than people? That might explain why he was so adamant about searching the town.

"I mean _you_ ," he clarified. "You can be my emergency rations." Rachel's eyes widened with hope. Either way, he was going to kill her. It just meant he had to ensure his own survival first.

"Ah," she replied, her voice dull. She gathered her wits enough to catch her footing and keep up with him as they left the doctor's room. Since she was walking on her own now, he let her go. Without missing a beat, they crossed the hallway and made their way to the front room. The wolf's footsteps were quick and purposeful, but Rachel was having more trouble following along. Even though her eyes had adjusted to the loss of the candle, she still couldn't see as well in low light as he obviously could. As soon as they entered the front room, she made a beeline for the tinder box. They could always find another candle.

"What's that?" the wolf asked suspiciously. Rachel looked at him, hand outstretched to take the silver box.

"The Doctor's tinder box," she replied simply. "I can light another cand-" She was interrupted by the wolf's hand on her wrist. It didn't hurt this time, but she also knew she wouldn't be able to move her hand and pick up the box. His intention was clear.

"We don't need that," he explained. "I have good night vision."

"But… I don't," Rachel protested as he began dragging her towards the door by her wrist. He didn't need to explain it to her: she didn't need to see. She just needed to follow him now. When they came to the door, rather than lift the bar off, he simply drew back a leg and kicked it right in the middle. The otherwise strong wood splintered and exploded outwards from the force of his kick.

"You just kicked the door down," she stated, voice full of quiet awe. "Why didn't you…" She could see a smile spread across his face, baring his fangs. It wasn't threatening this time, not exactly. Rather, he seemed amused.

"That's no fun!" the wolf barked. "Why even chase you if you don't make it fun?" His tail wagged just a little and Rachel realized just how close wolves could be to dogs. He pulled her down the stairs and onto the dirt trail leading out into the main road going back to town. The path leading out onto the dirt road was lined on either side by the thick forest. Very little light made it through, but Rachel's eyes had adjusted to the low light well enough to see the ground.

As they reached the wider dirt road leading back into town, the wolf finally released her hand. He looked back over his shoulder at her as she drew up even with his shoulder.

"Hey, little red," he grumbled. "You got a name?" Rachel lifted her face to look at him, moonlight lighting her features.

"Rachel," she answered plainly. "Rachel Gardener." The wolf's left ear twitched as he absorbed this information.

"So… Ray." Well, close enough.

"What about you?" His face was clearer now in the moonlight, and although it was covered in bandages, Rachel could see that he was fairly handsome for a wolf.

"Call me Zack," he replied before turning away to look down the road. The houses that made up the village were visible a ways down the road, dark and foreboding. No light was lit in the windows and no sounds could be heard except those of a few rustling leaves blowing across the dusty road. The two awkward companions, the big bad wolf and the girl in the red hood, began moving towards the darkened town.


	2. Chapter 2: Bone White

The town was dark and deathly silent as the wolf and his prey entered along the main road. The quiet was unnatural; there would usually be birds or crickets chirping, cattle lowing, or mice scratching somewhere. Now there was just nothing.

The scent of death was nothing new to Zack. He killed to live and each kill had to last several days; cool caves could only keep the smell down so much. But this was a different kind of death smell. It wasn't the smell of a freshly killed human slowly going bad. It was disease, a slow and lingering death. It was the neglect that accompanied sickness, of bodies gone unburied and waste left to rot. His ears nearly flattened to his head, an involuntary sign of the unease he was beginning to feel.

The little morsel with him seemed unmoved. She hadn't lied after all, so he figured he could wait to eat her. He wasn't great at impulse control, but walking with her hadn't been unpleasant, so he supposed he could get into human farming, at least for the winter. Still, her lack of response was odd.

He expected a human girl to cry or panic or have some kind of emotional reaction to this dead village. But not Ray. She stepped over the waste and the dead in equal measure, her eyes just as empty either way. This had to be her normal demeanor; the fun little chase she'd given him in the woods was a fluke, then. How boring.

"Haaaaaaah," Zack bayed, "This suuuuucks!" He was practically whining, but he didn't care. His companion turned to look at him, barely a hint of curiosity in her dead eyes.

"Are you sad?" Ray asked with just a touch of disbelief. Zack snorted.

"No, I'm not _sad_ ," he huffed. "I'm pissed because I have to find new territory, dammit!" He had to remind himself that his new pet human was probably too sheltered to know much about wolves. Humans liked to huddle together in cities, far too many of them in one place for a wolf's liking. Wolves might form packs, but those were more like a family unit; they never reached the ludicrous size that human villages did. But the bitter irony was that wolves needed human settlements. Left to their own devices, a single wolf could depopulate an entire forest of decent game in less than half a year. For Zack, it would be a matter of weeks. But living on the outskirts of a town, a wolf could snag sheep, goats, pigs, sometimes whole cows! Zack himself preferred human meat, but their livestock worked just as well. Without the humans, he could probably live off deer for a month or two; he'd eventually be reduced to scraping by on squirrels and chipmunks, though.

Like hell. He'd rather leave entirely than deal with that kind of crap.

"Oh," she replied softly. "Are you leaving, then?" What was she trying to say? Zack wasn't great at reading emotions, especially not on humans, but this girl was absolutely inscrutable. He couldn't tell whether she was trying to get rid of him or if she was lonely. She tugged on the sleeve of his jacket as he studied her face. No, he couldn't figure out that expression.

"You're comin' with me, girl," he grumbled, eyes narrow. "Remember? I won't kill ya now since you didn't lie to me, but now I need food for the winter." Her lips twitched up in something resembling a smile. Combined with her weird eyes, though, the effect was more eerie than comforting. Still, she wasn't unpleasant to look at. Was this what humans felt when they kept dogs as pets?

"So you're my insurance," he continued, responding largely to her smile, "In case I can't find any game." Her smile faltered. What the hell, why did she look sad?

Oh right. She _wanted_ him to eat her.

Humans were strange.

Rather than deal with her sad face, Zack gave Ray's shoulder a little shove. She stumbled a few steps down the dirt road, her expression flickering over subtly to confusion.

"You humans need supplies to live, right?" he barked, head cocked to one side. "Go get what you need. And if you try to run off, I'll hunt you down." Her face lit up in that eerie way. When her eyes flashed with life like that, it struck something within Zack that made him distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn't necessarily _bad,_ but he couldn't name it and therefore it was annoying.

"So if I tried to run, you…"

Oh. It was _that_.

"I'd find you and drag you with me anyway," he groused, annoyed that her expression had been purely due to her weird death wish. Still, it was the first time anyone had ever asked anything of him, so he was reluctant to be too angry.

"Now go on," he reminded her, "Get a blanket or food or whatever it is you humans take on trips with you." She hesitated again, head tilted just a bit.

"Are you going to wait here?"

"Nah," his lip curled over his fangs in a grin, "I'm gonna scratch up some dinner. I'll come get you when I'm ready to go." He didn't bother to explain; he just walked away from her. He could scent her when he needed to.

In the meantime, Zack could use his nose to find something to eat. It had been days and he really was hungry. But if he was honest with himself, there was something off about Ray's smell. He hadn't noticed it until he was right on top of her and about to sink his teeth in, and truthfully it wouldn't have stopped him anyway.

But that girl smelled like death.

Specifically, the smell of this town clung to her, in her clothes and hair and on her flesh. It was faint, but whatever sickness had destroyed this town, she carried with her. If he ate her right then, he risked getting whatever she had. Even as dumb as he could be, Zack would usually not ignore his instincts. Still, the thought of eating that girl made his mouth water.

What if he threw her in a river? Would that smell come off? This brought to mind images of her bathing, without that big cloak. What would that skinny girl look like in a moonlit lake, without her clothes? Could he even wash her himself?

"Stupid!" he huffed, snapping himself out of the weird reverie. "Boring!" That sort of thought could come later. Right now, his stomach was growling.

He realized why a second later. The scent of meat and salt had caught his nose. Zack had never robbed a salthouse before – he'd never had the need – but he vaguely knew what they were. Humans hung meat there to preserve so they could eat it in the winter. If this one had been stocked before the town died, he might have a good dinner tonight after all.

Following the scent, Zack made his way around a plain grey stone block building, looking for a door. Finally finding one on the opposite side, he took a moment to inspect it. He _could_ try to open the door, but why bother? That was human talk. With one swift kick, he splintered the old wood off its hinges, allowing moonlight to pour into the deserted room. Dust motes danced in the blue beams as they shone over a cellar door. That was where the scent was coming from.

Zack had never run into a door set in the floor before, but he wasn't about to be outdone by some human invention. True to his nature, he lifted a foot and sent it crashing into the wood. Had he thought better of the situation, he'd have realized that kicking in a door set into a floor would send his foot straight through it. Instead, Zack was now sunk half into the ground, swearing at the splinters digging into his leg.

Fortunately, it wasn't that hard to pull himself back up. A few moments later, he'd cleared the wreckage of the door away and found a set of stairs leading down into the meat cellar. It was dark and a human wouldn't have been able to see without a candle. Zack wasn't human and his night vision more than made up for the lack of light, so this wasn't a problem for him.

Looking about the cool, dry room, he had certainly found the salthouse. Sure enough, thick slabs of meat were hung to dry on large hooks. Cow and pig hocks were organized on racks and there were barrels full of whatever meat the humans had stuffed into them. He could take the barrels whole, if he wanted!

Not ten minutes later, Zack emerged with two barrels full of meat on his shoulders. He wasn't sure exactly how he'd travel with them – could he tie them to his back? – but they would surely be more than enough to last both of them until he could find more territory. His hunt over, now he could sniff out Ray.

The scent of the salted meat was strong, but the scent of death was also strong, too. Zack raised his bandaged face to the night air and breathed deeply. He could still smell her, but it was faint. She must have disappeared into a human hut somewhere. Without the threat of being hunted by the townspeople, he could leisurely stroll the streets as he looked for her.

Zack passed dark houses, their residents now forever silent. The streets were a mess: bodies in ditches or leaning against walls, muddy filth from recent rains, dead livestock, recently broken fences. He figured the remaining livestock had escaped into the woods when their human caretakers could no longer feed them. It wouldn't be enough to sustain him, but he wouldn't say no to the odd cow or goat when he got on his way.

As he passed a brick building with bars over its windows, he finally picked up Ray's scent a bit stronger than before. There was a sign with a shield and a key over the door, but Zack had no clue what it could mean. Not that it mattered; the residents there were currently food for the worms. Ray wasn't inside, in any event.

No, the blonde was certainly in the wooden hut next door. The door was ajar and her scent was strongest in that direction, but Zack hesitated. He could see light in the upstairs window, which meant she'd found another candle. Damn her and her poor eyesight. He suppressed a growl and pushed the door open. He could just knock it out of her hand if he had to.

Stomping inside, he could tell that this was a human den. The scent of old blood hung heavy here. It wasn't just from the sickness, but blood that had been spilled here before. There was the detritus of human life all around the empty house: a bare wooden table, a pair of wooden chairs, a threadbare rug, a broken plate, a cold hearth. The sleeping quarters must have been upstairs, so Zack sat the heavy barrels aside and moved towards the stairs in the back of the room.

The wood creaked as though it were suffering as he mounted the stairs. The death smell was much stronger up here, which probably meant there were corpses. As he reached the second floor, Zack could immediately tell which room Ray was in. Not only was her smell a dead giveaway, but that infernal light made it obvious. There was a larger, second room between him and hers, however, with an open door. The scent suggested that there were dead inside, so he took a peek.

It was a couple, man in the bed and woman in the floor beside it. They had both succumbed to whatever disease had ravaged the town, but the woman's body looked decidedly worse; she was probably where the smell of old blood came from. They were both well into their decomposition, but the resemblance was undeniable. Even someone as slow-witted as Zack could see that the woman was obviously related to Ray.

That would make this Ray's house, wouldn't it?

He turned to move towards the room Ray was in when his foot met some resistance. Looking down, he could see the offending item: the corpse of a black hunting dog. His gold eyes widened, one pupil visibly larger than the other. The scent of illness clung to his canine cousin. That was an ill omen.

"Raaay!"

No more dallying to look at corpses and broken fences. They needed to leave immediately. If that dog caught what the humans had, he certainly could too.

"Zack?"

She appeared like an apparition in the doorway of the other room, holding that damn candle. It lit up her passive face and glinted off her gold hair. Had the fire not been so offensive, she might have been a pleasant sight. But Zack didn't have time for sentimental bullshit. They needed to leave.

"Put out that damn candle and come on," he growled, "We need to go." Ray looked puzzled, but he didn't have time to explain. "Move your ass, girl!"

She must have heard the panic in his voice, because she came to his side in the next breath. She had secured a blanket to her back in a neat roll and had a large basket dangling from her arm. The other hand held the candle, still unextinguished. Feeling his hackles rise, Zack swatted it out of her hand and grabbed her wrist. The flame extinguished before it hit the floor. Then, without further explanation, he drug her towards the stairs.

"What… What's the matter?"

By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, Zack was bounding to grab his barrels. He released her hand to do so and then made straight for the door. Ray followed along behind, confused. Soon they were back out in the street.

"Can you tell me now?" she asked. Zack flashed her an annoyed look but acquiesced anyway.

"You didn't tell me dogs could catch this shit," he huffed, the accusation plain. Ray blinked, the problem dawning on her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that meant..." she murmured, looking away.

"Save it," Zack barked. "I'll take it outta yer hide later. We gotta leave _now_."

While it wasn't so much a run, Zack certainly wasted no more time heading out of town. Ray did her best to keep up, even though her legs were much shorter. Barrels weighing him down, Zack was actually slow enough that Ray could stay mostly even with him. Finally, after several minutes of silence, they reached the edge of town. Rather than stay on the road, Zack led them back into the woods.

"Aren't those heavy?" Ray finally asked, her voice quiet and breathy. Zack slowed to speak with her a bit better, winding between trees.

"Not too heavy," he huffed. "I'd rather tie em to my back, tho. Kinda cumbersome." Ray gave him a curious look but didn't stop walking.

"Maybe we can attach them to my bedroll?" It wasn't a bad idea, really. Zack would have to carry the bedroll, too, but it wouldn't be too much heavier.

"Alright," he grumbled. "What'd you scratch up, anyway?" He was vaguely aware that humans didn't just eat meat, so he figured she'd need more food than what he'd found.

"Ah," she said, opening the corner of the basket. "Canned plums, pickles, spiced apples, my sewing kit, Father's matchlock, our tinder box…" Zack felt his skin crawl.

"I told you, you don't need that," he growled. Ray's face was innocent enough, but he would never trust a human with fire.

"But we'll need a fire," she protested. "It'll be cold…" Zack interrupted her with a snarl.

"You can sleep with a damn blanket!" he nearly yelled. The sense of panic that idea induced in him was immediately converted into anger. He stopped in his tracks and faced her down. After a few ragged breaths, he tried speaking again. "Look, my den isn't far from here and it's not that cold. We don't need a fire."

Her face was inscrutable again. Zack almost wanted to shake her to figure out what she was thinking. After a few more moments, she nodded her understanding and he released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. She wouldn't ask again.

* * *

Zack's den was a cave set into a small rise in the forest. Rachel would never have noticed it had he not led her right to it. It was well hidden by tree roots and leaf litter and she really had to admire how inconspicuous it was. Even in broad daylight, she doubted she'd have noticed it.

When they reached the entrance, Zack sat his barrels down, dropped to all fours, and crawled inside. It was just tall enough to sit upright in, but not to stand – at least not for someone as big as Zack. Rachel figured she'd only need to duck a little to fit comfortably. As she stooped to enter, the wolf pulled the top off one of the barrels and gleefully dug into the meat inside.

"Ugh, so salty," he griped around a mouthful of salted pork. Rachel's eyebrow rose but she said nothing. She noticed that even as he complained, he didn't stop stuffing his mouth. He was really kind of hapless, wasn't he? He also must have been very hungry.

She unlatched her thick red cloak and spread it out beneath her. Sitting down, Rachel could still feel the cold of the cave's packed earth floor. Regardless of what Zack had told her, she was cold down to her bones. Perhaps it was because she'd only woken up this morning and her body was still weak from sickness. Even with the cold, Rachel could barely stay upright long enough to have a few pickles out of her basket.

"Here."

She focused her eyes on the strip of meat being shoved into her face. Zack gave her a hard stare as he waited on her to take the meat.

"You were sick before, right?" he asked. "You need meat to get better. Take it." Rachel had almost no appetite, but obliged him anyway.

It was odd. In one night, this wolf that was supposed to eat her had shown more consideration of her well-being than anyone she could recall in recent memory. He even waited to make sure she began to eat it. Once he was satisfied she was eating, he scooted back off towards the barrel again.

"Go to sleep when you finish that," he grumbled. "We're gonna be walkin' a while."

"How far do you think we'll have to walk?" Not that it really mattered much to Rachel; as long as he killed her at some point in the winter, she would be content.

"Hell if I know," he replied, tearing into another chunk of meat. "There's another wolf I know that might help me out, south of here." Rachel might have looked passive, but this admission piqued her curiosity. Did wolves have friends like humans did?

"How far away are they?" She finished her meat and leaned against the wall of the cave. Even with her cloak, the cold was unbearable. She undid her bedroll and pulled her heavy blanket over herself. As thick as it was, it did little against the chill. It would certainly frost tonight.

"Uhh," Zack hesitated. "Maybe… a couple months…?" Rachel's face was half-hidden beneath the blanket but she didn't look surprised either way. But inside she wanted to groan.

"Oh," was all she said. It all sounded so bothersome. If she could just go to sleep and not wake up…

"Hey," the wolf interrupted her bedtime thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"The people in that house? Were they your family?" Rachel blinked sleepily. The cold was keeping her awake anyway, so she might as well talk.

"Yes," she replied, half-hidden under the blanket. "Mother and Father and Peter, our dog." Although he had been her father's attack dog, Rachel had always loved Peter. He would snarl at strangers and the other townsfolk, but he was gentle and sweet with her. It wouldn't exactly be wrong to say she missed him more than her parents.

"Oh," the wolf replied, sounding slightly confused. To further cement that impression, he scratched the back of his dingey brown hood. Honestly, he was charming when he resembled a normal dog like that.

"What's the matter?"

"It's just… ain't you too old to still be with your parents?" Rachel cocked her head against the cold ground and gave him a curious look. Did she really look that old?

"Well…" How could she begin to explain her situation? That her family had no money for a dowry because her father had a bigger tab at the local pub than anyone else in town? That if he hadn't been the town constable that he'd certainly have had to sell her and her mother to pay his debts, or that he'd threatened them with it many times over the years? That she was always just a little "off" to the other townsfolk and that none of them would have wanted her in their house anyway?

A wolf wouldn't have been interested in that sort of thing, even if he did understand all the human interactions that went into it. Instead, Rachel took her time and gave him a slow blink.

"Don't most girls have mates by your age?"

It was true, at least if she understood him correctly. The few girls her age in the town had been married off over the past couple years. She was the outlier, for reasons she considered more or less obvious. Even before they got married, none of them were close to her. Rachel had heard her fair share of giggles whenever she passed them after that, as well. While they were content to chatter between themselves about their married lives and their husbands' proclivities, Rachel couldn't have imagined a more boring topic.

"I didn't have a husband," she answered plainly. The wolf looked confused for a moment before turning his back to her again. "Err, a mate." His ears flicked in understanding.

"Weird," he said, chewing another piece of dried meat. Rachel didn't care much for conversations on the topic, but it was still too cold to sleep. An involuntary shudder ran through her frame, causing the blanket to quake. She pulled it over her head in the hopes that her breath could heat up the underside of the blanket. It didn't work very well.

Rachel gritted her teeth together to keep them from chattering. She curled onto herself, wrapping her arms around her knees. It helped a little at least. She vaguely heard Zack moving around through the cave but didn't think much of it. At least not until he lifted the corner of her blanket towards the entrance of the cave, letting a rush of cold air inside. Rachel squealed and squeezed herself further into a ball.

"Zack!" she whimpered, "Put it down!"

He did as he was told, but that wasn't what concerned Rachel just then; rather, it was the fact that the wolf was now under the blanket with her. Zack flopped down on his side facing her. Now it was Rachel's turn to be confused. A second later, he threw an arm over her and pulled her to his chest, almost smothering her.

"C'mere, Ray," he grunted. "You're cold, right?" She mumbled her agreement into his jacket. He smelled completely foreign to her, a mixture of earth and dog fur, but it wasn't unpleasant. He adjusted his arms a bit to provide a pillow for her head and then went still; even his tail didn't move. Most importantly, he was warm – much warmer than Rachel. It occurred to her that this was probably why he didn't think they needed a fire.

Just as she shut her eyes and was nearly warm enough to sleep, she felt movement on her head. It wasn't just that Zack's hand was now cradling her head; it was that he was also apparently sniffing her hair. Rachel could feel what little heat there was rush to her face.

"You stink like death," he finally grumbled. "Take a bath tomorrow." Whatever vaguely romantic thoughts she may have had died when he opened his mouth. Still, that made her a little less nervous.

Truthfully, she hadn't slept together with anyone else since she was very young. She could only vaguely remember sleeping beside her mother when she was a little girl, but her father had raised such a ruckus about it that she'd been sent off to her own room. Sometimes she was lucky enough to get their dog to sleep beside her. That was what Zack most reminded her of just then.

Raising her hand to his chest, Rachel curled her fingers against the warm cloth. With the amount of heat he put out, she could feel sleep rushing in on her. Her fatigue and illness washed over her, knocking her out. She fell asleep so fast that she barely registered the wolf beside her holding her just a little tighter.


	3. Chapter 3: Coal Black

Zack woke the next morning, warm and comfortable. Something was strange. It was usually just a bit chilly when he woke in the mornings, and it was certainly chilly this morning too. But he was underneath a blanket and that was far from the norm.

Without realizing it, his tail began to thump on the soft fabric covering the floor of his cave. Soft fabric? Where had that come from? It wasn't terribly concerning, so Zack made a semi-conscious decision to ignore the oddness. Instead, he tried to go back to sleep. But there was something else stopping him – something that felt very nice.

It was his ears. The fur was being scratched, short nails scraping the skin underneath. The points of his ears flicked, responding instinctively to the stimulus. He whined a bit, realizing vaguely that this was what was causing his tail to thump.

Oh, it was _heaven._

He burrowed his face down into something soft to get more of that wonderful scratching on his ears. When it stopped, a small whine escaped his throat and his fingers flexed into that nice, warm pillow. Suddenly, there was a squeal, causing his ears to perk up once again. The pillow began moving underneath his hands and consciousness flooded back into Zack's mind.

Oh.

Shit, right.

Zack sat bolt upright, banging his head on the top of his little cave. As he gingerly rubbed his head, the curses came spilling out.

"Satan's cock and balls!"

Oh right. That girl was still there. He cracked an eye open to find her sitting beside him, watching him with a sort of detached curiosity. Rubbing his head managed to dispel the ache from the bump, but his pride still ached just a bit. Who just went and petted a grown ass wolf's ears like that? Did she not know those were highly sensitive? She'd also pricked at an unpleasant memory that he thought he'd forgotten.

He'd be lying if he said it didn't feel nice though.

"Sorry," Ray apologized, her voice dull.

"Why would you even _do_ that?" he grumbled. "Just for that, I oughta bite you." She at least had the common sense to look somewhat embarrassed.

"Well, our dog liked getting his ears scratched," she muttered, a finger next to her lips. That little admission raised his hackles. He didn't know whether to be flattered or offended. Instead, he decided on simply being irritated.

"I'm not a dog, dammit!" It was true, but why did it suddenly feel like a useless declaration? Frustrated, he moved to crawl out of the cave and out of Ray's mound of blankets. "I'm gonna take a bath."

"Ah!" she called after him, leaving the blankets for a second before shivering and covering back up. "It's still too cold!"

As Zack stretched, he realized that it was indeed still very cool. The sun hadn't even cleared the hills yet and a frosty haze still hung over the forest ground. It was going to be a clear day, but until it was properly light out, it was probably safer for Ray to stay where she was.

"Not for me," he replied. A grin cracked his face, his earlier consternation fading. What was with this girl? She was cold all the time! Well, whatever. He began walking towards the stream, frosty leaves crunching under his boots.

As he walked, Zack cracked his neck and reflected on his new companion. She didn't seem to smell quite so badly this morning; in fact, she'd absorbed a lot of his smell overnight. Since it wasn't as bad this morning, he might hold off on making her take a bath until it was warmer out. She seemed to get cold so easily anyway. Of course, he could always just wait a few days and she'd probably smell less sick and more like him naturally.

Either way, he was going to get his bath no matter what she did.

* * *

Rachel was colder when Zack left, but it wasn't unbearable. She didn't intend to sleep any more that morning anyway. Instead, she took some pieces of salted meat from the barrel and a few bites of spiced apples and made those her breakfast. He'd probably want to leave as soon as he returned, so it was better to eat before then.

It was still cold out, so Rachel kept the blanket wrapped around her, the wolf's warmth evaporating slowly. His scent lingered, though. It wasn't bad, really, and it did remind her of her family's dog. His reaction earlier was a mystery to her, though.

He'd liked having his ears scratched, hadn't he? His tail had thumped and he'd curled against her legs, just like a puppy. It was adorable and Rachel found her cheeks burning just thinking about how soft his ears were. But he'd admonished her once he woke up, so maybe he didn't like it after all? Or maybe he was just embarrassed? Rachel chewed the salted pork and continued thinking about it.

By the time Zack returned, she was up and about, gathering their things and rolling up her bedroll. His hood was down and hair was still wet and sticking to his head and ears. He'd opened his jacket, presumably to help dry off, so Rachel also had a clear view of his chest and stomach. She had secretly expected his whole body to be furry since his ears and tail were. Instead, he was wrapped neatly in bandages, showing no skin or fur. As he shook the water out of his hair, Rachel cocked her head to the side.

"Are you injured?" she asked, slightly concerned. If he had injuries that massive, he might die before he could kill her. Something about that struck her as sad and unacceptable.

"Huh?" came the startled response. "What, the bandages? Old wounds." His voice sounded nonchalant but Rachel noted how quickly he closed his jacket back over the bandages. If he didn't want to talk about it, she couldn't make him, though. She decided to drop the subject.

"Do you want breakfast before we set out?" She had set him aside some meat, along with some pickles; he probably couldn't live on meat alone either.

"What's that?" he asked, nose crinkling, pointing at the pickles.

"Pickled cucumbers."

"Nah," he dismissed them, "They smell like death." He did take the meat, though. Rachel watched him scarf it down, quietly happy that she had been of some use. After a moment, she turned back to her bedroll and continued rolling it up.

Not a few moments later, Zack joined her in gathering their things. He lashed the meat barrels together with the bedroll. Rachel thought the whole contraption looked terribly cumbersome, but he lifted it with ease. He only stooped a bit as he loaded himself down; after he'd taken a second to adjust the weight of the pack, he was nearly walking just as normal.

"C'mon, let's get outta here," Zack grumbled. Rachel retrieved her basket, latched her cloak, and followed him closely.

* * *

Surprisingly, the two made decent time.

Zack only knew he had to head "south" to find his old friend. Well, "acquaintance" would be the better way to describe him. The older wolf had taken him into his monastery when he was younger; Zack had chafed at the rules and restrictions that accompanied the place and had caused more trouble than he was probably worth. In response, he'd been politely dismissed. The brothers at the monastery pointed him towards the northern forests and sent him merrily on his way.

He had no intention of joining them or being subservient to them now. But the Father there was a decent sort and he figured if anyone would know the way to an unoccupied territory, it would be him.

Regardless of all that, he had to find the monastery before he could solicit their help. This was where Ray was proving her usefulness. Although the daylight hours were much shorter than in the summer, she was adept at finding their way with the aid of the sun and moon. For as long as he'd lived on his own, patrolling those woods and the surrounding mountainsides, Zack had never really noticed much about those sorts of things. Sure, he knew the sun tended to come up in the same place for most of the year, and the moon varied by time of month. But it had never occurred to him to learn in which direction those things happened.

Ray, on the other hand, seemed to be able to use that information to point them vaguely southward. Or she could have been leading them in exactly the wrong direction, Zack would never know the difference either way. But she had been honest so far, so it was worth trusting her.

In the blink of an eye, a week passed.

It was largely uneventful. They traveled by day, keeping off the main road unless the forest wasn't passable. Ray had protested at first, worried that the forest was harder to traverse, but Zack was adamant: other humans would pose a problem, and neither of them wanted to be separated from the other.

That was provided they even saw any. The town Ray had left was deserted and they hadn't seen any travelers. Zack hadn't even been able to pick up their scent. In fact, Ray was the first human he'd scented in weeks when he came across her. That sickness he'd seen in her town really seemed to have culled the whole lot of them. It really was a miracle she was even still walking.

That also proved to be a bit of a problem, though. Zack was used to walking, running, and trekking through wooded areas; he'd been doing it since he was a little pup, after all. But it rapidly became obvious that Ray wasn't used to it. Maybe it was because she was recovering from that illness or maybe it was because she wasn't used to travel. Either way, she carried a sickliness and thinness about her that annoyed Zack.

It also made her slow sometimes, and Zack really couldn't tolerate that.

The first day or two, he'd stopped so she could take breaks. But that only made him frustrated and restless. The compromise they'd worked out was for Zack to simply carry Ray under his arm like a log. He was certain he looked a fool, stomping through half-frozen forests with a limp girl under one arm and two barrels strapped to his back with a blanket. His back was strong enough to carry it all, but he wasn't sure his pride was.

She never wound up taking a bath, either. It wasn't like she smelled bad; she was about average for a human, as far as Zack knew. It just became less irritating as the sickness worked itself out of her.

Aside from her weakness, though, she did seem to be recovering. He even gave her extra meat, all the while admonishing her to hurry up and heal, hurry up and keep up with him, hurry up and stop making him worry. Even as he scolded her that he wouldn't wait on her much longer, that was exactly what he found himself doing.

The worst parts for Ray seemed to be at night. The cold didn't bother Zack much; it was just a natural part of living in the woods. If it was cold enough to snow, he'd just curl into a ball and sleep until it was warm enough to move around. Not Ray, though.

She couldn't sleep in the cold, not even with that huge blanket of hers. Every night without fail, she'd curl under it and shiver until he crawled in with her. She never asked or complained, which Zack supposed was tolerable. But he couldn't sleep if he knew she was just going to be awake all night anyway. As soon as he pulled her tight to his chest, she'd fall asleep.

He would have been lying if he said it wasn't awkward to wake up holding a woman. The last female he'd been around for any length of time was the bitch that had given birth to him, and none of the males he'd been near had gotten that close to him. Most of his victims had been male humans, as well; the females didn't seem to get out into his woods quite as much, although their meat seemed just a bit more tender. In fact, before the man had gone into his cabin and expired, Zack had had his eye on the village doctor. That man was always going through his woods, narrowly escaping him every time.

He was fine when he was walking with her during the day. It was during those small spaces of time that Ray was asleep and Zack was not that his mind started doing weird things. Usually at night, he was too tired to do much thinking before falling asleep. But in the mornings when he woke, if she wasn't already awake, that was when the trouble came.

Sometimes he'd wake sweating because he'd dream of people he'd known – mostly the two humans who'd taken him in after that bitch had abandoned him. Ray's lingering human smell must have triggered their memory. The couple of times he'd dreamed of them, he'd spent the entire rest of those days reticent and unwilling to even speak to Ray. She must have been worried, but Zack tried not to think too much about it. It was for her own good.

Those were the days he wanted to eat her most.

It wasn't just because she was unintentionally pricking at something that rekindled his spark of hatred for humans. Those were the first humans he ever ate, and salted pork was a poor substitute. Waking up with her scent right under his nose made him miss it. But there was something else too.

That ugly human woman who'd adopted him had petted his ears, too. That was probably what made the connection in his mind. It wasn't fair to Ray, of course, and Zack knew it. Still, he couldn't help what he dreamed.

The other weird thing that tended to happen in the mornings was much more foreign to Zack. He could explain why he'd wake up hungry from her scent. What he couldn't explain was the weird feeling he'd get some other mornings when his sleep had been dreamless. He'd wake with Ray cradled in his arms, her head on his chest, little hands near her face, maybe her leg crossing his at the ankle – and with his dick uncomfortably at least half-hard between them.

Sure, that had happened a couple of times before he met her, especially first thing in the morning. But with someone else there, especially a human girl, it would just make things awkward. He had no intention of mating with a human like some deviant, and he wasn't even sure if she would know what that was anyway. Just the thought of it was something repulsive on its face, but… was Ray really like other humans? That was the thought that nagged at him and was also possibly the source of his weird feelings. Even so, the situation also made him feel an uncomfortable combination of embarrassment, shame, and frustration. So it was always a weird struggle on those mornings to sneak out of the blankets without waking her so he could take care of it with some cold water without her knowing.

The days they traveled together were far less eventful, though. They chatted a little on the days he hadn't had nightmares, and Zack found it pleasant enough. The girl rarely smiled and never laughed, which had the strange effect of being calming and irritating at the same time. Calming because nothing made Zack want to hunt a human more than seeing them stupidly happy; with Ray, that was never really a problem. It was irritating, though, because of the lack of stimulation. Most of the time, she was just there.

He didn't want to just travel with a small shadow.

But that was mainly how it went. Making time by day and resting by night. Most nights there was only the shelter of the trees, although one night they had found another small cave in which to sleep. The nights got progressively colder, frosts going from light, sparkly, merry things, to freezing the earth solid. He'd been successful in keeping her from making a fire thus far, but his body warmth wasn't going to be enough for her soon. When the snows came, she was going to need a fire, maybe even one of the abandoned cabins they sometimes passed. Perhaps when that time came, he'd just sleep far enough away that it wouldn't bother him. But a nagging feeling inside his head told him he probably wouldn't be able to tolerate that.

Human farming was going to be the death of him, Zack just knew it.

* * *

It was on the eleventh day of traveling together that the forest began to change around them. It was imperceptible at first: a little bark stripped from a tree here or there, some human trash by the roadside, a depression in the leaf litter, or a few broken branches. Rachel noticed those things but didn't know exactly what to make of them.

Zack seemed tense, though. A bit after lunch, Rachel could sense a shift in his behavior. He could be quiet or moody, but this seemed to be something else entirely. After a couple hours, Rachel finally placed exactly what it was: he was on guard. As they continued south, he only grew more tense.

It was close to sundown when Zack put out a hand and stopped her.

"We need to go around," he said quietly. "Maybe closer to the main road, o-or on the other side of the river." Rachel stayed where she was, cocking her head to the side to watch him curiously.

"What's the matter?"

"It's not good," he growled. He was distracted now. Rachel watched him sniff the air then scan the forest with his eyes, the setting sun reflecting off his pupils. His ears flicked atop his head, clearly trying to pick up any nearby sounds. Rachel certainly couldn't hear any noises as quiet as he could. She also knew his night vision was much better than hers; they might need it soon, it seemed.

A murder of crows erupted from a copse of trees further into the forest, creating a racket that made Rachel jump. They both watched them fly into the sunset, knowing that there was a reason the birds wanted to escape.

"Shit," Zack breathed, watching them go. "She's already close." Rachel's eyes slid to meet his. She could read something very close to panic there.

"She?"

He grit his teeth and seemed hesitant to answer. Finally, after several seconds, he reached over and grabbed Rachel. Tucking her safely under his arm, he began running.

"We're in a bitch's territory," he huffed as he ran. "I met her once, when I was just markin' out my area. We gotta -"

Zack was cut off by a long, loud howl. He froze in place, jostling his bedroll pack as he did so. The sound sent a shudder down Rachel's spine as well. It was something she hadn't heard since the night Zack hunted her in the woods. Just as he began to run again, there was a second howl coming from the direction in which they were running.

"What the hell?!" Zack hissed, digging in his heels. "She has a pack now?!" Rachel wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but she knew that if Zack was spooked, it had to be bad.

"You don't like her?" Rachel asked. Did wolves have kingdoms and factions like humans?

"Hell, no!" he barked in return, nearly dropping her. "That crazy bitch?! I never wanna see her again, and neither do you." As soon as he stopped talking, he started running away from the directions of the two howls. When his footsteps began sounding throughout the forest again, Rachel heard something else, too.

It was a woman's maniacal laughter.

Something about it chilled Rachel right to her very toes. She wrapped her arms around Zack as he carried her, shifting her weight to be less like a bale of hay under his arm and more like a baby clinging to its mother's side. She buried her face in his chest and held on for dear life as he picked up speed.

Then, just as suddenly, Rachel felt him stop with a jerk. She managed to hang on tight to him with a squeal, but it was obvious his foot was caught on something. Only a fraction of a second more saw them both tumble to the forest floor. Zack broke her fall, holding tight and making sure she didn't roll away. With a crash, the bedroll pack he'd been carrying dislodged and broke apart on the forest floor; the barrels rolled across the leafy ground while the blanket tangled into a jumbled heap.

Rachel and her basket fared much better, though. When she opened her eyes again, she was laying on top of the wolf, hands clutching his hooded jacket.

"Shit fuck godDAMN!" The expletives poured out in a steady, hushed stream. Even so, Rachel knew something was wrong. She'd seen Zack stumble before; he always got back up afterwards. But this time, he wasn't moving from his spot.

"Zack?" Rachel breathed, pushing off his chest and supporting herself with her arms. His face was contorted in pain, but he still managed to acknowledge her when she called to him.

"I'm stuck," he growled. Rachel looked down at his legs. One of them was caught in a metal clamp, the kind Rachel knew was used for hunting bears and deer. If her leg had been the one caught in that, she was sure it would've been bitten clean off. Zack's leg was at least somewhat protected by his boot, but Rachel could see that the teeth of the trap were digging into the boot.

Suddenly, the sounds of laughter and stomping were much closer. Rachel pulled at his jacket, trying to brace herself on the ground and pull him away from the trap. She slipped against the cold, wet leaves and couldn't get purchase, but she doubted it would matter anyway; she wasn't strong enough to be able to pull the trap out of where it was staked to the ground. Zack growled in response anyway.

"Stop it," he hissed. "I can't avoid her now. But you gotta hide." Rachel could see he was deathly serious. In response, she frantically scanned the woods. Dusk was falling quickly and her vision was nowhere near good enough to outwit a wolf.

"Where?" she asked breathlessly. Zack had sat up by then; with a great deal of effort, he then pushed himself to his feet. As soon as he was standing, he grabbed Rachel's cloak, pulling her to him. Then he hoisted her up by her waist. For just a second, he held her aloft and she went perfectly limp. It was strange, but even though he'd acted suddenly, she knew she could trust him.

Then, unsteadily, he braced himself against the forest floor and sent her flying. The next thing she knew, Rachel was lying draped across a low tree branch, her basket still on her arm. After a moment of shock, she pulled the rest of her body up onto the branch. Once she was better balanced against the trunk of the tree, she turned back to look at Zack. He was trying to yank the bear trap out of where it was bolted to the ground.

"Zack?"

"Just stay up there!" he barked back. "If she sees you, she'll kill you!" Rachel squeezed herself closer to the tree. She wanted to die, certainly, but she had promised her body to Zack for food. Strangely, she wanted to know he'd be okay after she was gone.

"She'll eat me?"

"No, stupid, she'll just kill you!" he huffed, still struggling with the trap. "We're in her territory, you're a strange female, and she's probably in heat! Now shut the hell up!" Admonished, Rachel fell quiet, clinging to the tree and trying her best not to move. The clanging noise of Zack struggling with the steel claw masked the sounds of anyone approaching.

It wasn't long until that was drowned out with the crazed laughter, too. Rachel huddled down against the tree, as still and quiet as she could possibly be. She couldn't see her yet, but she knew the wolf woman was approaching Zack in the dark. Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, she could make out her figure.

She was dressed all in black, with a short skirt worn over a tight pair of breeches. Her neckline was low enough that even from her vantage point in the tree, Rachel could see her deep cleavage. And unlike Zack, whose hair, ears, and tail were all black, her ears and short bob were blonde, fading to pink tips. Her hair shone with what little light the rising moon gave off, sleek and glossy, as though she had taken great care of it. Worst of all, though, Rachel could see something that looked like a stiff, black stick held between her hands.

With a wicked smile, the wolf bitch regarded her prey. He'd stopped struggling by then and Rachel could hear his low growl.

"Well, well, well! Welcome back, Isaac!"


	4. Chapter 4: Dusk Red

Zack had first smelled traces of the blonde bitch hours ago.

He should have stopped the second he scented her and asked Ray for help, because his sense of direction was apparently completely broken. Soon it wasn't just a vague scent; there was bark scratched from trees, broken branches, and obvious tracks. She'd been through there recently. He should have at least steered closer to the road or the river. Instead, he'd stubbornly kept moving until it was too late to get away.

Worse yet, he could tell that she was in heat at the moment. Zack wasn't overly familiar with the whole process exactly, but he at least knew what it smelled like. He was absolutely uninterested in anything she had to offer; his impression of women as a whole was far from great and his last encounter with the blonde had been unspeakably unpleasant.

It wasn't just that he knew what she wanted out of him, either. It was also the fact that she'd almost certainly just kill Ray out of hand. She wasn't even a maneater; on the contrary, she considered Zack's diet contemptible and utterly beneath her. No, she'd almost certainly view the little human as _competition_. Bitches in heat were usually pretty territorial, driving away any females that weren't relatives or packmates; this one was worse than most, at least in Zack's opinion. And if she happened to realize that Ray was still around, she would most definitely assume that the human girl was his mate.

Zack didn't know what bothered him more: that she was almost certainly going to assume something like _that_ about him or that she was going to kill his winter food supply before he got a chance to eat it.

No, the bear trap around his ankle probably bothered him the most actually. Or more accurately, it was the stake keeping it firmly fastened to the ground. If it was just the trap part, he could simply run off with it on his leg and take it off at his leisure. Instead, he was tethered to the ground and could only move about three feet in any direction. Even standing, he couldn't get leverage enough to pull the stake out of its spot.

That was how she walked up on him: crouching, grunting, and yanking the chain attached to his leg. She glowered over him from just outside the radius of the trap, knowing damn well that he couldn't reach her. Zack growled, hair standing on the back of his neck and ears flat against his head. He might have been chained to the ground, but like hell was he going to make this easy for her.

"Well, well, well," she said, flashing her fangs. "Welcome back, Isaac!"

"Let me outta this damn trap, Cathy!" he barked back. "Let me out so I can rip your ugly face off!" As she bent the black riding crop she was carrying between her hands, Cathy's expression was nearly orgasmic.

"Now why would I do that?" she cooed, honey and poison in her voice. "You've been in my territory all day, haven't you? Did you finally come to your senses, hmmm?" Ripping his own leg off to get at her throat was seeming like a better and better idea to Zack.

"Like hell!" he growled.

"I like seeing you crawling back here like this…"

"I'm only on the ground because you set a _bear trap_ out, you crazy bitch!"

She was circling him, sizing him up while still staying just out of reach. Aside of the black crop, Zack could see a purse strapped to her waist; he figured she had more implements stored there. He knew from experience that Cathy was the crafty sort that liked to do weird experiments with herbs and salves. He'd really only barely escaped last time, largely due to being able to simply outrun her. That might have been why she had traps out now.

"Well, I didn't want any other trespassers escaping," she explained, coming to a halt. "But I didn't expect _you_ would come back through my territory! How lucky!"

"You call this luck?!"

"Well, it's lucky for me, isn't it?" With that ironic thought, Cathy took her eyes off Zack to rummage through her purse. Zack's eyes narrowed; whatever she was going for wouldn't be good news for him. Finally, her clawed hands emerged from the bag with a long, thin tube and a small arrow with a feathered shaft on the end.

"But Isaac," she continued, toying with the end of the arrow. "Unfortunately, I can't really approach you the way you are now." She slipped the arrow inside of the tube as Zack growled.

"Yeah, cuz if you did, I'd rip your throat out!" Cathy cackled, the kind of grating laugh that made Zack want to claw his ears off.

"See?" she chimed, tilting her head to the side as a grin split her face. "But that's quite alright! I have a solution, you know!" Zack watched her, waiting to see what she'd do. She brought the tube to her lips and before Zack had even registered what she was doing, the arrow was sticking out of his neck.

"What the hell is this?!" he roared, attempting to jerk the shaft out of his neck. It seemed like it wasn't quite as smooth as he'd first thought; when he pulled, it stuck fast. Even though he could feel the flesh snag as he pulled on the dart, he bared down, grit his teeth, and doubled his force. Eventually, it came free, pulling flesh and blood with it. Looking at it more closely, Zack could see what he'd felt before: several barbs along the shaft that had popped out when they'd struck him.

"You'll figure it out in a second," came Cathy's reply. "But then again, maybe you won't. You always were a bit dimwitted, weren't you, Isaac? Well, I never wanted you for your _mind_." As she spoke, it seemed like she was getting farther away. Looking up, however, Zack could see she was still standing where she had been. After staring in her direction for a few more seconds, he realized his eyes were having trouble focusing; she was growing hazy around the edges.

His gaze slipped off Cathy and wandered to the trees behind her where he'd tossed Ray a few minutes prior. He could just barely see the moonlight shine off the white-blonde hair that was peeking out from underneath her red cloak. She seemed to be fine for the moment. Good; one less thing to worry about.

Before he could process any other thoughts, Zack noticed Cathy coming closer. He wanted to spring at her and go for her throat, make her regret ever setting that damn bear trap. He tried to tense his legs to spring, but….

Zack found he couldn't move.

"Shit," he hissed, finding it difficult to even speak. He could hear Cathy chuckle; this time it sounded even farther away, almost as though he was underwater. Suddenly she was crouching in front of him, stroking his face with her clawed hand. Placing a finger under his chin and a thumb on his lip, she tilted his face up to look at her.

"Don't worry, dear," she purred, "I realized you were here hours ago, so I've had some time to prepare. That tranquilizer I just gave you won't even make you lose consciousness." After imparting that bit of information, she lightly patted his cheek and went to rummage in her bag again. This time, she pulled out a metal syringe. It glinted in the moonlight as she flicked it with her fingers, causing fluid to leak out of the end of the needle. By this point, Zack couldn't resist if he tried; his muscles simply weren't obeying his commands.

It was little wonder when he collapsed a few moments later. Laying on his side, he could still see the wolf looming over him, licking her lips. She leaned in and with a light chuckle pressed the cold needle to Zack's neck. He could barely feel the prick as it slid into the large vein under his jaw.

"You know, that sedative isn't particularly strong," she continued, "Someone like you will recover in a few minutes. That's why I need to give this to you right away!" He couldn't move his jaw to speak; his question came out as an indignant series of grunts, but it was fairly obvious what he was asking.

"Oh, don't you worry, you bad little puppy," Cathy crooned, patting his head, "This is just something that'll make sure you feel like playing with us when I get you back to my den!"

Shit.

So that was how she intended to make him do what she wanted. Cathy was a clever wolf; she knew Zack had no intention of ever running into her again, let alone mating with her. So of course her solution was to drug him into compliance. If he could've moved at the moment, he would have snapped her neck without a second thought.

He didn't have any more time to think about it, though. She'd already pressed the plunger on the metal needle, sending a torrent of hot fluid into his neck. It wasn't just a random injection site, either; she had struck his jugular, so the burning sensation traveled from his neck, down his chest and to his heart. From there, Zack could feel it pulse out to the rest of his body. The feeling of arousal that he was sure she had meant for him to feel never came, though.

Instead, it felt like his body was on fire, melting from the inside out.

It wasn't just that it hurt. Of course it hurt. But this pain was very familiar to Zack, in ways that he tried to avoid thinking about as much as possible. The feeling of being burned alive, he knew that all too well. Even paralyzed as he was, it was enough to make him scream.

Worse yet, the pain was enough to begin affecting his perception of reality. His consciousness turned back in on itself as memories came flooding back unbidden. One second it was Cathy standing over him, moving around to his side. The next, it was the leader of the rival pack that had encroached on his father's territory. Both faces merged in his mind, lit from underneath by firelight.

Zack could barely even hear Cathy releasing the bear trap and resetting it behind him. His heartbeat was too loud in his ears, drowning out even the sounds of his own howls. It hardly registered that she had begun dragging him by his injured leg.

"How strange," she said to nobody in particular. "Maybe I got the dosage wrong? Hmm. Well, no matter! It should still have the desired effect!" Zack was too lost to his own agony to notice or care what she was talking about.

"You know, Isaac," Cathy continued, "The only thing I don't get is what happened to that little human you were with. You don't seem like the kind to take up babysitting…" They passed the tree in which that very same human was hiding, Cathy seemingly oblivious to her presence.

"Don't tell me," she gasped, her tone implying that she wasn't really as shocked as she let on, "Isaac, you weren't thinking of making that human your mate, were you? No, of course not! That would be such a waste! Not to mention completely disgusting!" He was nearly gone by that point, subsumed by the pain and the red haze that accompanied the drugs in his system. Even so, what little he could hear of Cathy's voice was pissing him off even more.

"Well, no worries, my good little pup," she chirped, dragging him over the cold ground effortlessly. "We're going to take care of that nasty human girl and you won't have to worry about her ever again!"

* * *

As it turned out, the "nasty human girl" heard every word of their conversation. Rachel gripped the tree, her knuckles turning white in the moonlight. Watching the whole debacle unfold, she had to weigh her next move carefully.

If Zack was any indication of a wolf's strength, she couldn't fight Cathy hand-to-hand. She also couldn't hope to drag Zack away even if Cathy was taken care of. But she still had one trick in her basket that she could use.

Sliding a shaking hand into her basket, Rachel found the cold grip of her father's hand cannon. The tinder box came next; she needed a spark to light the powder before Cathy got too far away. Her father would probably yell and slap her if he knew she had his cannon; he didn't realize she had watched him shoot at the local dogs with it over the years and had fairly decent aim herself.

Rachel fumbled to open the tinder box in the dark. Just as she had almost pried the lid open, she felt a hand squeeze her shoulder.

"Nah ah ah!" came a decidedly feminine voice. "I won't allow you to harm my Cathy~!" Before Rachel could even look over her shoulder, the fingers tightened into her flesh enough to hurt. She was overcome by the sensation of flying as she felt her feet come off of the branch. She'd been flung back onto the ground hard enough to have the breath knocked out of her lungs. As her eyes refocused, she could see the moonlight shining brightly off a pair of glasses attached to the creature now looming over her. From the outline of the ears, she could guess at their nature.

"A… Another wolf…?" The creature grinned, moonlight reflecting off her sharp, white canines.

"I'm Cathy's packmate, Lucy," she said sweetly. "It's my job to protect her so that she can continue guarding these woods! So you understand, right?" Before she could formulate an answer, the she-wolf was on top of her, claws digging into Rachel's throat. It hurt, but as the fog cleared from her head, she worked on getting purchase underneath her with her feet. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to choke her.

"Don't worry, little human!" Lucy continued, the lilt of her voice becoming more and more unsteady. "We'll take great care of Isaac for you!" As she cracked an eye open, she found she could more clearly see the wolf sitting on top of her. In addition to the glasses, her hair was long, straight, dark, and glossy. Her face was cute, far too cute for what she was doing just then. And with how wide her eyes were open, she looked uniquely unhinged.

"Cathy even said," she went on, "That if I do a good job taking care of you, she'll let me mate with him too!" Even aside of the strangle hold the bitch had on her neck, Rachel thought she might be ill. Zack had been her constant companion for nearly two weeks now. The thought that these wolves wanted to do such heinous things to him stirred a sadness and anger in her heart that she only barely recognized. It was one thing when people were cruel to her; she was used to it. But Zack didn't deserve that.

As that anger welled up inside her, Rachel finally found her footing. She pushed off the ground with her hips, throwing the bitch to the side and enabling her to catch her breath. Before the wolf could get her bearings, Rachel got her feet underneath her and began running. She couldn't exactly see very well at the moment, but she knew where she was heading.

"Get back here, you rotten human!" Lucy shrieked, finding her feet. "Who do you think you are?!" Rachel hated hearing her say anything with that tinny voice of hers, but as long as she was furious, it played into Rachel's hands. She could feel the wolf's claws brush against the back of her cloak; she managed to dance out of the way just in time. Just as she heard Lucy sputter in anger again, her eyes landed on what she was looking for. With a few more strides, she ran past it and slowed, just enough to tempt Lucy to hurry over.

"Got you, you damn tramp!" she roared. Her claws stopped just short of Rachel's face as she turned. The sound of the bear trap springing let Rachel know she'd been successful.

Lucy howled her pain and indignation as Rachel danced just beyond her reach. She gave her a wide berth as she circled back around, back to the tree in which she'd been hiding.

"Damn you!" the brunette shrieked, tears streaming down her face. "Cathy will come for me, you human whore!" Rachel could hear her yanking on the chain, just as Zack had done a few minutes prior. As the expletives continued, Rachel actively stopped listening to whatever the wolf girl was saying. It was mostly worthless at this point anyway.

"Don't worry, _little wolf_ ," she said quietly, the irony sharp as a knife, "I won't just leave you there." She found the tinder box she had been looking for and continued her search. Seeing a glint of moonlight on the cold metal tube showed her where her target was.

"She'll kill you, you idiot!" the wolf laughed, tears still flowing. "She'll kill you and make him watch! I can't wait!" Rachel checked the powder pan on the hand cannon and loaded a few rocks down the barrel. Then she took the lid off the tinder box and lit the end of one of her pitchsticks contained therein. Burning twig in one hand and hand cannon in the other, she walked back to where Lucy was tethered.

"You won't be here to see it," she replied softly. The wolf stared at her in stunned silence as she brought the hand cannon to bear right between Lucy's eyes. Expression inscrutable and lifeless, Rachel brought her match to the firehole, lighting the powder in the pan.

* * *

Cathy's eyebrow arched as she heard the small explosion behind her. It had come from the direction she had just been a few minutes prior. Was that the human girl? Lucy was supposed to be taking care of her as a sort of light clean up duty.

"That idiot," Cathy huffed under her breath. It wasn't that she didn't love Lucy; of course she did. She was the most loyal and worshipful packmate a bitch could ask for, and if Lucy were male they wouldn't even have any need to hunt down mates. It was just that Lucy's enthusiasm could sometimes get the better of her.

Still, there was no reason to believe that twig of a human girl could leave a scratch on her.

"I wonder what kind of trouble your friend is causing, Isaac," she thought out loud. "Well, it doesn't matter. She'll be taken care of soon enough. And then you'll never have to worry your pretty little head about her ever again! Or… much of anything, really."

She continued dragging him towards her den – a two-story human dwelling whose clueless inhabitants had built it in her territory without realizing their grave mistake. But it had been to her advantage to hold off on killing them until they had finished building. They had even been kind enough to finish a basement for her before being dispatched, and Cathy had found that most useful of all.

The cabin was just in sight through the copse of trees when Cathy felt her prey stir. The tranquilizer must have been wearing off; it was a few minutes early by her reckoning, but that shouldn't have been a problem. No other wolf had come back around so early, but then again, Isaac was a prime specimen. He'd make wonderfully strong pups for her and Lucy.

Well, maybe not for Lucy, she thought with a smirk.

Her front porch was just in sight when she jerked to a halt. It seemed like Isaac was stuck on something. Confused and mildly irritated, Cathy pulled his leg roughly in an attempt to free him from whatever had snagged him. She grunted, giving him another tug. Frustrated, she turned to see what had caught him. That was when she heard it.

He wasn't just breathing anymore; he was now panting heavily, a low growl permeating his breath. His mouth was split in an open grin, baring his teeth and allowing strands of foaming drool to reach the ground. Cathy could see the cause of the delay; his claws were dug into the earth, causing his body to be anchored to the spot. More ominous yet, there seemed to be a red glint in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Rather than seeing this as foreboding, Cathy was elated. She dropped his injured leg and turned to face him, dropping to a crouch before him.

"Oh, how lovely," she chirped as he began pushing himself up off the ground. "How do you feel, Isaac? You look marvelous! You know, none of the other wolves got back up after taking my love potion!"

If he heard her at all, he didn't let on like it. Cathy's expression fell slowly as she realized he didn't have nearly the same amorous idea as she did. Then, his breathing changed. It started quietly at first, and she had to strain her ears to hear it.

"K…l… …il.." He was huffing something that Cathy couldn't quite make out. She leaned closer, cupping her hand around one blonde ear.

"What's that, dear?" she scoffed, "You'll have to speak up." He seemed not to have heard her then, either.

"kill… kill… _kill…!"_ he continued, almost like a mantra. Cathy blinked in disbelief. Before she could respond, though, Zack was yelling, his voice reaching a delirious fever pitch.

" _I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"_

* * *

Rachel heard the screams before she saw anything. That direction must have been where Zack was taken. Gathering her basket and shoving the tinder box and hand cannon back inside, she set off to find the source of the noise as quickly as she could. Luckily, the screams were female, which told her that he was probably alright.

As Rachel got closer, the sounds died down. She realized the voice hadn't just stopped; it had been replaced by other, more disturbing noises. There was a pervasive low growl accompanied by the moist sounds of rending flesh. With every pop, tear, and slurp, Rachel's pace slowed further. The noises were twisting her stomach in knots. She had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly what those sounds meant.

Passing through the trees, she could just barely see the outline of a cabin in the distance. There were lights inside, but they were dim and weak. Was that where Cathy and Lucy lived? Did wolves live in human houses like that? The question was pushed from her mind as the loud crunching stopped suddenly.

She could sense it then; he was looking at her. The two red embers suddenly pointing in her direction had fixed on her, the growling continuing unabated. The moonlight reflected off his chin, showing that the bandages that usually tightly wrapped his face were soaked through with blood. Whatever was left of the other wolf slumped to the forest floor as Zack turned to face Rachel.

He was still twenty or thirty feet away. Rachel knew from experience that he could close that distance in seconds. So now she had a choice to make: let him kill her where she stood or keep herself alive to feed him later.

"Ray _…_ " his continuous growling had begun to congeal into the shape of her name. "Ray _…. Ray…!_ Ray, I… I'm… _I'M HUNGRY!"_

In a split second, Rachel made her decision. Zack wasn't in his right mind. Whatever Cathy had injected him with was causing a terrible adverse reaction. If she allowed him to eat her now, he might not make it through the winter.

She ducked just in time. The tree she'd been standing in front of exploded over her head. It only just barely registered to her what exactly had happened; Zack had lunged at her and put his hands through the tree trunk. Eyes wide with disbelief, she dug into the cold ground and sprinted for the cabin.

Rachel had barely outrun Zack before, so she knew she could do it again. But this time would be different; this time, she knew his weakness. Hopefully, even in his addled state, she'd be able to force him back if she needed to.

She didn't waste time looking back; the sound of Zack pulling his claws from the broken tree trunk failed to register, as well. No, she needed to get to safety as quickly as possible. As she neared the wooden porch, stepping over what was left of the bitch that had started this debacle, she could feel Zack's presence closing in on her.

Then it was his hands.

Rachel's foot hadn't yet hit the first step when she found herself being yanked forcefully backwards. Rather than hitting the ground this time, though, she collided with Zack's midsection. His laughter was rough in her ear as he crushed her against his body. With one hand holding her at her waist and one pulling at her jaw, he sank his fangs into the flesh of her already bruised neck. For one brief, terrifying second, Rachel thought he might lock his jaw and pull.

Instead, he licked the wound, squeezing her tighter to prevent her from escaping.

Using the last of her strength, Rachel slid her hand into her basket again. She knew it was a dirty trick, but it was for his sake, too. Even with as disoriented as Zack clearly was at the moment, she knew one thing guaranteed to make him let her go. She finally found what she was looking for and pulled it out.

Using both hands, Rachel opened the tinder box and struck the flint with the handheld striker therein. The pitchwood sticks she'd extracted from the box in her other hand were more than ready to burn.

The effect wasn't immediate, though; it took a couple strikes to get a spark. But when she did, it was like lightning. The fire that sprung up from the flint was like a magic ward, causing Zack to release her as though he had really just been burned. Holding the makeshift pitchwood torch out towards him, Rachel backed up the stairs, barely keeping her balance.

The look in his eyes was like he wasn't seeing her at all, but rather a memory long past. Although Rachel felt a pang in her heart at this realization, she continued backing away.

"Zack," she said softly, "I'm going inside now. Don't follow me." She felt the wooden door against her back and sent her free hand to grasp at it, looking for a handle. Zack kept his distance, but if his low, constant growl was any indication, he wasn't pleased about it. She honestly doubted he'd even heard her just then. Fortunately, the door handle wasn't hard to find and Rachel had barely finished speaking when she turned it and the door gave way.

When she was on the other side of it, she slammed it shut and immediately began barricading it. She knew from experience that it wouldn't hold him off for long. After dropping a large wooden plank into the door bar, she ran further into the house using her pitchwood to light the way.

There were a few lanterns left burning low and a set of stairs to a second story, but that wasn't what Rachel was looking for. Judging from the howls and the battering the door was taking, she had only a few precious seconds left to find what she needed.

"Ray! _RAY!"_

As Zack finally crashed through the front door, he didn't hear the cellar door snap closed.

* * *

The pitchwood barely lit a foot in front of Rachel's face as she huddled at the bottom of the cellar stairs. Zack was a skilled hunter, certainly. But Rachel knew from experience that he wasn't terribly bright. She was only hoping that the rug she had hurriedly pulled over top of the cellar door on her way in would be enough to trick him.

As she sat in the cool darkness, her heart beat hard in her ears. His pained howls and the crashing noises as he demolished the house looking for her hurt her heart. Worse still, it pricked at her memories, recalling the times her father would drink. She knew logically that she couldn't blame Zack, but that didn't make the noise any less familiar.

Just to be on the safe side, she moved further into the dark cellar. She held the torch out in front of her body, giving her enough of a view to be able to see her way around without running into anything. The further she walked, though, the more Rachel realized something was horribly wrong with this cellar.

It might have been the smell. There was something foul in the cool, damp basement. At first Rachel had mistaken it for the natural smell of earth, but she had realized her error. It was the smell of decomposition. It was, after all, a smell she was intimately familiar with.

It could also have been the light reflecting off the various trinkets and bottles on tables around the room. Rachel surmised that this must have been where Cathy had mixed the medicine she'd given to Zack. One of those reflections seemed to be in the shape of a lantern and Rachel gravitated towards it. Sure enough, it was; fumbling with cold fingers, she used the pitch stick to light it and turned it up.

As light permeated the room, Rachel could finally see what was causing the strange smell. In one corner of the basement, there was a pile of long, cloth-wrapped things, each nearly the size of an adult man. They had been laid lengthwise and stacked one on top of another like firewood. Judging from the desiccated feet and hands protruding from underneath the sheets, they were bodies; the fur and tails that Rachel could see told her that they were wolves.

There was more. That pile of bodies was at least covered with sheets. The bars on the other side of the back wall hid a trio of bodies kept in a cage. Perhaps these hadn't been moved over to the pile yet, but they were certainly dead, too. Although she didn't want to get closer, she could see from where she stood that the dead were three wolves, just like Zack.

Turning back towards the stairs, Rachel outwardly showed no expression. But secretly, she was glad that Zack had killed the other wolf.

Looking further around, Rachel could see a desk, several tables and bookshelves, and a couch. The desk held several journals and books that she could check later. But just then, the couch was the most compelling thing to her. The crashing and howling from upstairs was beginning to subside and fatigue had begun to catch up to her. Setting the lantern aside and turning it low, Rachel laid down on the couch and covered herself with her red cloak like a blanket.

It wouldn't be the first time Rachel had slept amongst the dead.


	5. Chapter 5: Snow White

As dawn broke, the ransacked house was quiet and still. The front door had been splintered, leaving most rooms open to the heavy frost of the night before. Much of the surfaces were covered in a thin sheen of white, demonstrating just how much the temperatures had dipped in the night. It was late fall now, after all, and such things were to be expected.

The still of the frozen house was broken by the noise of the cellar door creaking open. It lifted from the floor a fraction of an inch, moving the rug with it as the girl underneath it peeked out. The house was just as silent as she'd expected.

Last night had been hell. Whatever drugs he'd been given, Zack had raged through the house for hours. Rachel had tried to sleep, but whether it was the noise or the cold or simply the wolf's absence, she had mostly tossed and turned on the pull-out couch in the cellar. Rather than stare into the dark alone all night, once sleep had proven futile Rachel instead lit a lantern and began reading Cathy's journals.

Now not only did she have a greater appreciation for what was going on in this house, but she was more intensely glad that Zack had gotten rid of her.

She knew for certain the kinds of experiments the she-wolf had been performing, and she also knew what had gone into the injection she'd watched Cathy give Zack. Apparently that aphrodisiac was what had killed the other male wolves that had been captured by her and her lover; the best guess she had recorded was that it had caused their hearts to fail since death always quickly followed the injections. Her last written record was shortly before their confrontation last night. She had recorded the ingredients that went into the serum she'd given Zack, as well as her hopes that she had finally perfected her mixture. She also seemed to be hoping that his strength meant that she'd finally be successful in having a potential mate survive the dose.

As for why she had decided to go to all the trouble of such an elaborate scheme just to find a mate for her and her girlfriend, all Rachel could guess was that Cathy wasn't the type of wolf to tolerate any challenge to her authority. So rather than risk having a male move in and take over, she preferred to attempt to grow her pack by keeping them on a leash. Unfortunately, she had challenged the wrong male.

That brought Rachel back to thinking of Zack. He had been dangerous last night – whatever Cathy had put in that aphrodisiac had a terrible adverse reaction on him. Maybe he _had_ had the urge to mate, but he certainly hadn't recognized it as that. Rachel rubbed her sore neck as testament to that. She'd barely escaped with her skin; as much as she wanted him to eat her, she didn't want to go to waste.

But that left the problem of making sure Zack was okay this morning.

As she emerged from the cellar, Rachel could feel the chill of the house settle on her skin. The front door was certainly open, but emerging into the wreckage made her wonder if any part of the house could now be barricaded against the cold. Zack had done a pretty thorough job of ransacking it looking for her.

She picked through the wreckage, seeing what could be salvaged. Their bedroll had been open to the elements all night outside, but she doubted it would have been tampered with. It was probably fine. The salted meat barrels, though, might have been another story. They would have to be inspected before they could be used again. But it might not have been a very pressing issue after all.

Cathy and Lucy had apparently stocked a pantry in a closet near the back door. The cooking hearth was probably in the main room, but aside from Zack having torn the door off, the pantry seemed to have been untouched. It could feed both of them for weeks. Very few things made Rachel smile, but this nearly did.

Even as the prospect of real food dangled tantalizingly before her, though, Rachel felt a pang of concern. If Zack had access to all this food, would he still really want to eat her? Fundamentally, that was what she desired from him. So why then did knowing he would be well-fed without resorting to eating her make her happy? And why did the prospect that he would no longer need her make her nervous?

She shook her head, her hood moving with her hair, to clear her thoughts. That was all nonsense. Zack was good for his word. He'd eat her when he needed to. Provided he was okay, anyway.

As she trudged over broken dishes into the main room where it seemed that Cathy and Lucy had slept, she finally found what she was looking for. There was a bed against the wall, along with a writing desk (now broken), a couple of chairs, and some destroyed bookshelves. The hearth, now cold, held a cooking pot and ashes; there was a small stack of firewood beside the dead fireplace. And right in front of the place where the cooking fire should have been was a pile of white-frosted black fur, covered in a dingy brown hooded cloak.

Rachel figured that Zack must have either not realized what he'd passed out in front of, or else he'd been too disoriented to notice what it was. Either way, it was a stroke of luck for her. After bending down to check to make sure he was still breathing, she breathed a sigh of relief. He was only passed out.

Now Rachel had the unenviable task of sealing the broken doorway to keep the heat in after she'd built a fire.

* * *

 _It was so cold._

 _Zack shivered, the sparse fur on his arms standing up. He hadn't yet gotten used to it, having very little fat on his bones and his fur still having not fully come in. There was little food and the cold made his stomach hurt that more intensely._

 _He was the strongest pup in his litter, he knew that for sure. The other two had already gone still in their sleep; those mornings it had happened, he'd woken to find them already drug out of their den by his mother. She never went very far, since their father was gone hunting. But those two days, they had eaten well to compensate for the loss. The stews she made then were filling and tasted good, so Zack didn't question it. Still, he felt uneasy._

 _Sometimes he heard her when she thought he was asleep. Growling and angry, pacing the den and cursing her absent mate. Cursing her useless, weak pups; cursing someone Zack had never heard of before named Ishmael. Zack was never very bright – his mother had made sure to tell him that often – but even he could tell that his father had been gone for far longer than was usual._

 _That night he had been huddled beneath his thin blanket, shivering, when he heard the strange, heavy footsteps in their den. It wasn't his father; that much was certain._

" _What the fuck took you so long?!" he heard his mother yell._

" _Relax, Sarah," the deep voice responded. Zack felt the hackles on his neck rise. "He gave us a run for our money but we took care of him. The dumbass was tryin ta get back here. Can you believe it!?" His laugh made Zack nauseous; his fingers curled into his blanket. Was this stranger talking about his father? Why did his mother know him?_

" _Stupid," she hissed. "Whatever. Let's just go."_

 _The footsteps receded, moving towards the entrance of the den. Zack's ears caught the sounds of laughter trailing off as it grew distant. She was leaving. There was still snow on the ground and their little fireplace would burn out before morning. He was too young to hunt; he'd been told that many times. He was being abandoned and it would mean his death. Just like how his father and siblings were dead now._

 _Zack gritted his teeth, trying to hold back tears. Not only had the bitch who'd given birth to him betrayed his father, she was leaving with the wolf who'd probably killed him. And now she was going to leave him to die, just like his littermates._

 _His vision went red as he squeezed his eyes shut. Before he even knew what he was doing, Zack was on his feet, slinging the blanket behind him, and rushing at the older wolves. He barely registered what the male even looked like, other than having black fur. All he knew was that he wanted to make him pay for what he'd done to his father._

" _You bastard!" he screamed, his throat tearing from the fury, "I'll kill you!"_

 _Before he could reach the older wolf with his outstretched claws, though, he found himself flying across the den. As he fell backwards into the fireplace, he realized his mother was the one who had struck him._

" _You little shit," she growled, "I shoulda killed you along with those other brats…"_

* * *

It was hot. Hot and smoky, like there was a fire. Zack didn't exactly _feel_ like he was burning at the moment, but the feeling was very close to the front of his mind.

Was it because of that dream? Or was it because of last night? Last night….

He wanted to groan just remembering that pain. In fact, he thought he heard himself whining through his foggy half-conscious state. The whining was met momentarily by a sweet shushing noise and the feeling of his fur being stroked. He would allow it; his muscles felt weak and squishy anyway, so there was no use in resisting.

Zack thought he might go back to sleep, but immediately rejected that idea. The memory of his bitch of a mother flashed through his mind and he whined again. The stroking resumed and he leaned into it without opening his eyes. It felt so good and comfortable. Normally his pride wouldn't allow him to take advantage of such a feeling, but he was too tired just then to protest. Just let her keep doing it, what could it hurt?

Wait, let _who?_

Oh, it was Ray. Zack thought he might have his head laying on her legs; that was fine. He burrowed his face down, like he was lying on a pillow, and squeezed whatever his cheek was pressed against. Relief flooded through him. If Ray was petting his head, he hadn't succeeded in eating her last night. Something about that made him strangely happy.

"Zack," he heard her call. He could barely form coherent words, but he tried his best to answer her.

"Ray," he groaned. "I'm tired."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. What for? While Zack tried to figure it out, his tail seemed strangely warm. He moved it, lazily thumping against the hard floor. It met a bit of resistance and he realized she'd covered him with a blanket. Beyond that, he could hear the crackling and popping of a fire and…

 _A fire._

Even with as weak as he was at the moment, Zack was stumbling across the room a second later, taking Rachel with him blanket and all. She squealed with surprise as Zack drug her a few feet along with the blanket before stopping. He panted, looking around frantically. Once he was certain the fire was contained to a cooking hearth on the edge of the room, he turned his glare to Rachel.

"What the hell?!" he yelled, his voice cracking in strange ways. "What did I tell you about that shit?!" He expected her to flinch or even run away. Instead, Rachel looked relieved.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she said, holding back tears. "I'm sorry. I know you hate it, but I couldn't help it. You needed to be warm." Zack raised an eyebrow. Sure, he felt like he'd been hit by a carriage, but he hadn't needed a fire since he was a pup.

"Don't be stupid," he grumped, "I'm fine without a fuckin' fire! Put that shit out!" He _was_ actually very cold since he had moved away from the fire but Rachel didn't need to know that. For the first time, though, she didn't listen to him. In fact, she looked downright aggravated.

"I will not," she said softly, standing from where she'd been pulled over by the blanket. "You had ice in your fur this morning. And you need to recover from what you were injected with last night." She stepped over to Zack, looking up at him defiantly. He had to take a step back; now that he was fully conscious, being too close to Rachel made him slightly anxious. It was her scent. Smelling it reminded him of what he'd almost done last night, and what a part of him still wanted to do. It prickled him with other, stranger thoughts, too. That, combined with the fire, made him want to bolt from the room. The only thing keeping him in place was the utter exhaustion he was currently feeling.

"What horse shit," he growled, his fur standing on end, "I'm totally fine! Let's keep walkin'!" It wasn't exactly a lie. He could technically walk. Rachel seemed unmoved.

"It's night now," she said firmly. "You slept all day." That gave him pause. He _could_ force her to travel through the night, but even Zack wasn't that stubborn or stupid. He sighed, flopping to the floor with his legs crossed and his ears drooping. Fortunately, he was right in front of the opposite wall now, so leaning against it didn't really seem weak.

"Fine," he grumbled, "You win. But first thing in the mornin', we're gone." Cathy's smell was still strong in her den, too, and it was rubbing his nerves the wrong way. And he didn't particularly want to smell Rachel too much at the moment, either. It triggered weird feelings left over from that injection and that aggravated Zack. Fortunately, Rachel didn't seem to intend to press the issue; she turned and moved back to the fireplace to stir something in the pot there.

With a scrape, Rachel ladled some brown soup into a big bowl. As she brought it over to Zack, the smell reached his nose and his stomach growled. His mouth watered and he stretched his hands towards the bowl. Then the memory of his dream jabbed at him and he paused.

"Wait," he said, his voice low, "What's in this?" It wasn't that he was averse to eating other wolves, exactly - he'd taken a chunk out of Cathy last night, after all – but the idea of cooking them turned his stomach. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out why, especially since he'd just dreamt about it. But Rachel seemed puzzled.

"Dried beef and some potatoes," she replied. "It's probably bland and I don't know if you like potatoes, but please, try it." The words hadn't fully left her mouth before Zack pulled the bowl away from her and began drinking. Rachel stared at him for a moment before turning back to the fire and scooping herself a bowl. By the time she turned back, Zack had finished his bowl and set it aside with a deep breath. While he normally preferred meat, that wasn't bad either.

In fact, he could get used to Rachel's cooking.

After another moment, he shook his head. No more thoughts like that. That serum must have messed with his head; why else would he feel affectionate towards that human girl? He'd made up his mind very early on that he'd never bond with anyone and he'd never have a mate and he'd definitely never have a pack of his own. He'd rather just look out for himself.

The bitch he'd killed the night before was all he needed to think about to remember why.

She'd almost gotten him on his first pass through the area years ago. She hadn't yet found the follower that he'd heard across the woods last night. It was just the blonde bitch, tracking and chasing him until she got to the border of her territory. He'd given her the slip, though, and kept moving until he came across that human town.

That did bring another question to his mind, though.

"Hey, Ray."

She turned to look up at him from over her bowl. There was a dribble of soup on her lip; Zack watched hungrily as her little pink tongue darted out to lap it up. He looked away with a grunt; he was sleeping far away from her tonight. With that awful fire going, she wouldn't need his warmth anyway.

"What… What happened to the other wolf?"

Rachel's head tilted to the side, her blonde hair sliding over the wound he'd left on her neck. Just glancing at it was doing something strange to the pit of his stomach. It made him recall how she'd tasted; he wasn't exactly hungry since he'd just eaten, but there was some other nagging feeling that he couldn't quite name. Zack shut his eyes and shook his head.

"Dead," she responded, seemingly unaware of whatever strange thoughts he was having. "You don't need to worry. We're alone again." Ugh, why did her saying that give him a flicker of excitement deep inside? Of course they were alone; they'd been alone all along.

Zack set aside his empty bowl and shakily pushed himself to his feet. This in turn caused Rachel to startle and begin to move towards him. He extended a hand and shook his head.

"I gotta take a leak," he explained. "Just stay there."

It wasn't a lie. Having slept all day, of course he had to relieve himself. But that wasn't the only reason he had to get some fresh air. His thoughts were uncomfortable now and he figured some cold air would shake him out of it.

Rachel had hung a heavy blanket in the doorway, trapping the heat from the fireplace where he had broken the door the night before. He pushed that aside and stepped into the house proper, boots crunching on broken glass and splintered wood. Hazy memories of trashing this place came floating back to him, but Zack brushed them aside. It was only what that crazy blonde had deserved.

He vaguely knew the kinds of things she'd gotten up to here. The smell of death and chemicals permeated the entire house. Wherever Rachel had escaped to last night, she'd probably found the source of it. But Zack didn't want to see it or think too much about it. They could take what they needed from her stores and continue on their way.

Zack made his way outside then, finding a nice bush to do his business in, then had a relaxing stretch. He probably stayed a bit longer outside than he should have; the den was cramped and smoky and he'd begun to feel claustrophobic. But ultimately, he reluctantly found his way back inside.

Pushing aside the bedspread that Rachel had hung in the doorway, Zack entered to find her smoothing her blanket over the bed. She had cleared the debris away, leaving a space to sleep. The bed was more than big enough for two, Zack thought bitterly. Cathy had certainly intended that, although the idea of sleeping with that wolf left a nasty taste in his mouth.

The sight of Rachel on the bed laying the blanket out, on the other hand, was strangely provocative. Zack flicked his ears in confusion; what was with him tonight? He slept with her every other night. Why did it feel different this time? He wasn't exactly sure he approved of it, either.

"Ah, Zack," Rachel said when she noticed him. "I hope you don't mind, but I made you a blanket away from the fire." Zack tipped his head to the side, curious. She simply stared at him with her cold blue eyes.

"What'd you do that for?"

"That potion is probably still in your system," she informed him calmly. "So it's better if you sleep away from me for now. We have a fire, so it shouldn't be a problem." Zack's eyebrows pinched together as he eyed the comfy-looking pile of blankets that Rachel had prepared for him. Did that mean she was able to tell how weird his thoughts had been since he woke up? Part of him was tempted to be embarrassed; a much larger part was frustrated that she'd pointed it out at all.

"Oh," he mumbled his understanding. "You found her stash or something?" Rachel nodded, her eyes fixed on the fire.

"I found her journals," her voice was low. "You're lucky to be alive, Zack. She injected you with a very strong aphrodisiac. All of her other victims died from it." Zack's tail swished slowly as he absorbed this information.

"….the fuck's an aphro-whatsits?"

Rachel sighed to herself.

"A love potion, basically," she replied. "More specifically, ahh…" She seemed to be considering how to explain it to him. "It should make you want to, umm… to mate."

Zack felt his cheeks heat. Like hell he'd do that. Nothing good ever came of it, especially not with a human girl. He had known that was what Cathy wanted from him, and he'd guessed that was what was in the syringe she'd injected him with, but he hadn't thought the effects would have continued until then. He had assumed that since he wasn't burning up from the inside anymore, that it was out of his system. The oversensitive way his body was reacting to minor things begged to differ, though.

"Tch, she did a shitty job on it," he grumbled. "All it did was make me feel like I was on fire." He flopped into his nest of blankets, burrowing into them. When he was finally facing the wall, he spoke again.

"How long is it supposed to last?"

"I don't know," Rachel replied honestly. "You're the first one to survive the injection, that I could see. It's… probably better to be on the safe side, though." Something about her voice sounded sad, but Zack didn't devote too much thought to it. She'd get used to sleeping without him. She was a grown human woman, not a pup. And that bed certainly looked soft and comfortable. She'd be okay.

On the other hand, Zack wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to sleep tonight, though, not entirely because of having slept all day.

* * *

There was only a small window in the room, tucked beside one of the destroyed bookshelves. The half moon had risen outside, casting half the room in a silent blue glow. The other half was lit by the low, orange fire. Zack lay in his blankets, listless and slightly uncomfortable. He was on the edge of falling asleep, in that twilight state at the edge of consciousness.

Rachel was breathing deeply in her spot in the bed. Every once in a while, she would sigh contentedly, her sweet little voice causing some phantom ache deep inside Zack. The thought wouldn't leave his mind; it was just a few steps to the bed. Even the fireplace with the large fire inside it was making a poor deterrent to keep him in his little pile of blankets.

But he did. He stayed right where he was, pulling those blankets tighter around himself. It had to be the drugs still in his system playing tricks on his mind.

" _Zack._ "

He didn't move. Even as he lay on his side, he could feel a soft, small hand slide under the blankets to stroke his stomach. Rachel pressed into his back, letting him feel the swell of her breasts as well as the angle of her hips. Zack's tail began to thump against the floor in spite of himself. He wanted to resist or tell her to go back to bed but damn if she wasn't warm and soft.

As her fingertips brushed the tip of his cock, she giggled lightly. He would never admit how exciting that little bit of contact was; instead he took a sharp breath and tried not to tempt her hand lower. Not that it mattered; her fingers sought him out anyway and played with his head, running her nails along the top.

" _Zack, come on,"_ she whispered right against his shoulder, " _Let me sleep with you tonight. I promise you'll like it."_ Zack swallowed, the lump in his throat heavy. He was barely thinking anymore; the only thoughts he could formulate were about the delicate little hand that had begun stroking him. Before he realized what he was doing, he was thrusting against her grip.

" _Dammit, Ray,_ " he grunted, fingers digging into the blankets. He'd never been this thirsty before in his life, heat spreading from Rachel's hand, through his cock and throughout his body. Logically, Zack told himself he would never mate with anyone, but if she kept doing things like that to him, he wasn't sure how much longer he'd remain committed to the idea. Rachel giggled again, breathing against his neck, testing his resolve further.

Finally, teeth gritted, he rolled onto his back to look up at her; Rachel leaned down over him with one hand resting on his stomach and the other lightly stroking him. She was completely naked, the little breasts he'd only glimpsed once on accident now on full display. Her pale blonde hair fell over her bare shoulders, framing her angelic face. She smiled sweetly, causing Zack's mouth to water.

In another moment, she had crawled on top of him, straddling his hips and sitting on his lap with that firm little ass of hers. He couldn't stop his hands from moving to clutch the swell of her hips and press her down to grind against him. She tittered, clearly pleased with his reaction. Atop her head, he saw two pointed blonde ears flick eagerly.

" _Zack,_ " she purred, " _Let's make puppies…"_

Zack sat bolt upright, tangled in his blankets. He could feel cold sweat trickling down his back and soaking into his bandages, his breath coming out in hard puffs. The light coming through the small window told him it was nearly sunrise and the fire in the hearth had nearly burned itself out. His eyes frantically darted over to the bed; Rachel was sleeping peacefully in a nondescript lump of blankets and pillows.

"Fuck…" he hissed, leaning forward and clutching his head. He'd never had a dream like that before, and to tell the truth, he wasn't sure he didn't enjoy it. That was probably the worst part of it; he was turned on and disgusted, all at once.

Luckily, Rachel hadn't woken up. He could take care of his body's reaction before she got up. More importantly than that, he knew he'd have to put a stop to the two of them sleeping together under the same blanket entirely from now on. If he was having those kinds of thoughts, it was only a matter of time until something happened for real. Apparently, the fact that she was a human hadn't even stopped his dysfunctional mind from lusting after her. It might have just been the left over affects from that injection, but Zack still felt like a filthy pervert for even thinking about it.

Zack flopped back into the blankets and squeezed his eyes shut again. Getting back to sleep would be a challenge. Maybe after taking care of that ache down below, he'd be able to pass out again.

* * *

When Zack woke again, Rachel was cooking breakfast in the hearth. It smelled like meat, causing Zack's mouth to water. He wanted to be annoyed about her maintaining that fire, but the thought of food won out over his phobia. He rolled over with a groan, opening his eyes to watch her.

She was dressed in her traveling clothes already; he spotted her basket and blanket, packed and ready to go by the door. He wasn't sure if she'd salvaged any of the meat from his barrels, but he knew she had raided the house's pantry; they shouldn't need to worry about food anytime soon.

She turned to acknowledge him as she put the fried meat on a plate and set it aside.

"Good morning," she said plainly. Zack waited to see if her voice would affect him again. It was pleasant enough, and he enjoyed it, but it didn't cause any strange reactions so he judged it safe to speak.

"You ready to get out of here?" His voice was gravelly and harsh, drawing attention to how dry his throat was. Rachel must have anticipated it, because she delivered him a cup of water with his plate of cooked ham. Zack gladly took it and gulped down both, barely tasting either.

"Yes," she replied, moving to put the fire out. "We can check to see if there's anything left of your meat barrels before we leave, but I've already packed the pantry into some bags." Zack didn't pause in his eating until he was finished.

"How much was there?" he asked, standing and brushing his pants off, leaving the plate on the floor.

"Maybe a month's worth, if we're careful," she said, looking at the ground. Was she upset that it would take longer to get around to eating her now? Although if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he was no longer quite so keen on the idea of eating her at all. But she didn't need to know about his emotional problems. It did make him vaguely wonder exactly why she wanted to die so badly, if just for a moment.

It was really none of his business, though. And although he already knew how delicious she would be, he could hold off on eating her until his weird thoughts had completely settled down.

"Alright," he grunted. "Show me what I need to carry."

They were on their way a bit after mid-day, the sun high in the cold, cloudy sky. The snow hadn't started yet, but it would be coming soon. Zack could smell the scent of it in the air; it would meet them within a day or so. Luckily, Cathy had a few extra blankets for them to take with them. Zack figured they would protect them both from the cold without having to resort to either a fire or sleeping under the same blanket.

They made decent time that afternoon. Rachel seemed to be healthier today and better able to keep up with Zack. They were still headed south, staying within sight of the main road. Straying too far had gotten them into Cathy's territory; if they met another wolf, he'd much rather deal with human interference instead. But they hadn't seen any travelers so far, so problems seemed unlikely.

By the time it got too dark to travel, the skies were already mostly dark from the thick clouds. They were heavy grey things, hanging low and close to the treetops. It made Zack nervous; he preferred to sleep as much as possible in winter, partially to avoid the snow. He wouldn't be able to avoid it this year.

They unpacked for the night in a little copse of pine trees. Rachel had been mostly quiet that afternoon, and Zack hadn't wanted to push her to talk. Maybe she'd become afraid of him after taking his fangs to her neck? That idea disgruntled him a bit, but it was nothing as extreme as the night before. In fact, as he watched her unpack their dinner, he realized that his emotions weren't nearly as out of control as they were earlier.

They ate in silence. It was hard bread with smoked ham and cheese; a beggar's portion, basically. He doubted the girl was trying to save her own skin by making the food last. It was more likely to him that she was trying to make him hungry enough to go ahead and eat her. Or maybe she just hated wasting food. He finished his dinner with a snort. The joke would be on her, though; Zack could go weeks without eating in the winter, like other wolves.

After dinner, Rachel began preparing for bed. Once again, she gave him his own blanket.

"I know you don't need it," she said gently, "But it looks like it's going to snow." Zack nearly rolled his eyes but stopped himself. He'd never had anyone to look out for him like that before. It was awkward and he found that he couldn't bring himself to fully trust her intentions. But Rachel had proven herself trustworthy so far, so Zack told himself to just get over it and accept her help for the moment.

"Yeah, no shit," he replied without much edge to his voice. "I guess you don't need me to sleep with you tonight, huh?" Rachel suddenly looked apprehensive.

"Well, I…" she mumbled quietly, "I was hoping we could start a fire…" Zack snatched the blanket from her and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Hell no!" he barked. "You wanna set the forest on fire?" She was beginning to seem more nervous, but Zack held firm on this point; he'd really only allowed the one earlier because he'd been in no position to make her put it out. Now that he was better, though, there was no way he'd let her build another one.

"Zack," she said quietly, kneeling in front of him. "Please. I'll get sick otherwise." He was tempted by her begging; it pricked something in his heart, making him want to reach out to her. But before he could agree, the thought struck him that he might still be under the influence of that drug. It hadn't bothered him all day, but the memory was still fresh and made him doubt how he was feeling. So he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"We got another extra blanket, right?" he pointed out. "Just take that. You can have this one too if you want it. I don't really need it." The shift in Rachel's expression was barely imperceptible, but Zack was fairly sure of what he saw. She was upset, possibly afraid. It didn't make him want to chase her, though. Instead, he wanted to reassure her.

He kept that to himself as he returned the blanket and then flopped over to curl up and cover himself with his cloak. Sappy shit like that made him queasy and he couldn't afford to throw up what little he'd eaten. In a few moments, he heard her hesitantly getting ready to sleep.

She didn't, of course. Even once Rachel was bundled into her three thick blankets, he could hear her trembling and her teeth chattering. It was hard for him to get to sleep because of it; he couldn't relax with her still awake. But eventually, just as the snow began to fall, she did finally go still for the night. Hearing her breath deepen, Zack rolled over to look at the mound of blankets. A light dusting of white had settled on top of them both. Zack reached a sleepy hand up to brush the cold flakes away from his shoulders and hair, but the layer on top of Rachel continued to accumulate.

She'd be fine. She was completely inside the blankets, after all.

* * *

Zack slept deeply and dreamlessly that night. It almost felt like hibernation, but he knew better. Still, the cold felt nice and even the snow didn't bother him. His fine, nearly invisible undercoat, even underneath his bandages where it was still patchy from his scars, kept him warm.

When he woke, the world was charmingly white and still. It was well after dawn when he finally sat up and shook the snow off; he guessed it was actually closer to mid-morning. There wasn't much snow coverage from what he could tell. It really didn't even come up to cover the tops of his toes. But it had stuck and didn't look to be going anywhere soon.

Zack pushed himself off the cold ground and gave a good shake, flinging snow in all directions. His fur stood on end, helping him warm up quickly. The chill made him want to go running just to get his blood pumping. Even as the coming of snow made him nervous, once it was there it made him feel almost like a pup again.

Something was off, though. It was expected that the world would be still after a snowfall. None of the forest animals would be out and about in the snow, so it made sense that no birds would be chirping or squirrels would be skittering about.

It was then that it struck Zack. Rachel wasn't up. He turned to see her blankets, covered in a thick layer of snow. She hadn't moved yet this morning. A slow, creeping sense of dread encroached on his mind. There was no way she could have died just from that, right? She couldn't be weaker than a wolf pup.

Apprehensive, he knelt beside the little snow-covered blanket and brushed the powder off. Finding a corner, he pulled the covers upward, peeking under to check on Rachel. There she was, curled in a small ball with her blonde hair splayed around her head in a halo of tendrils. She was breathing and shivering, wincing at the cold air that hit her skin from having the blankets lifted. Seeing the paleness of her skin, Zack had a brief second of panic. She didn't look right.

After a moment, though, she opened her eyes. Zack's muscles relaxed; he hadn't realized he'd been clenching his jaw and his tail, but the release of tension let him know.

"Hey, Ray," he said, reaching a hand down to shake her shoulder, "It's morning. Get up. Let's get going." She rose slowly, pushing herself into a sitting position only with great effort. He'd never seen her so sluggish in the morning before.

"Give me a minute," she replied faintly. Zack watched her closely as she started moving stiffly. She was obviously cold, but he hadn't thought she would react this badly to being left by herself overnight. Would it be alright to get in the blankets and keep her warm the next time they stopped to sleep? He didn't want to see this again.

But past being sluggish for a little while, Rachel seemed fine. After their morning routine, they struck out just as normal and started walking.

Their pace was piss poor, though. Zack noticed ruefully that Rachel was much slower than she had been on previous days, and much quieter. Other than the occasional sneeze, she was almost entirely quiet.

A bit after noon, Zack realized why. It wasn't exactly a revelation he made on his own. In fact, Rachel made it hard to ignore when she fell face-down into the snow. Zack turned to see her red cloak splayed out on the white snow, the human girl laying still underneath. When she didn't stir after a few moments, he put their bags down and crouched in front of her.

"Ray?" He poked at her for a moment before reaching out to shake her shoulder. "Ray?! Hey! Get up!" She looked up at him, her eyes hazy and unfocused. Zack could feel panic seize his heart.

"I'm okay," she murmured. "Let's rest, okay?" Zack's brows pinched together. This definitely wasn't normal and he couldn't let it continue. He crouched down to get a grip on Rachel and pulled her up out of the snow to sit upright. There was a tree nearby and he found that a convenient place to lean her while he gathered their things. Once he'd loaded back down with their luggage and her basket, he picked Rachel up and continued walking with her cradled in his arms.

She was light, lighter than he expected. Zack tried to think back; was she always like this? Was she not getting enough to eat? Or had she walked all her fat off? He made a mental note to give her extra portions from now on; the idea of her weighing that little made him uneasy.

After a few steps, Rachel stirred, looking at him with a mildly confused expression. Zack tried not to make eye contact.

"Zack, why-"

"Don't get the wrong idea, brat," he huffed, tightening his grip on her. "You're just slowing us down, that's all." She relaxed into his chest, pressing her face against his cloak. As her face turned toward him, he could feel the heat from her forehead through the fabric. She was never that hot before; was this a fever? What did humans do for those? They didn't even have any medicine.

"Ah," she muttered into his cloak. She said no more and Zack kept walking.

The snow came back a few hours later, but Rachel still didn't stir. The sun was beginning to hang low in the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest. Zack was getting nervous.

Would Rachel be okay through the night? Why was he even worried? He had plenty of food now and if she died he'd have her portion too. But the idea of her dying suddenly filled him with a quiet dread. He told himself that it was because he wanted to be the one to kill and eat her, but that excuse felt hollow. He'd grown used to her presence, and after being alone for so long, having a constant shadow wasn't so bad.

He'd been drawn to walk directly on the side of the main road. As much as Zack hated humans, he thought that with Rachel being ill it was his best bet at seeing if they might be able to help her. But after traveling along the road for hours, he hadn't seen a single carriage or rider.

Rachel must have heard the crunch of his boots in the frozen slush, because she stirred just as the sun disappeared under the treeline. She clutched weakly at Zack's cloak to get his attention. When he looked at her, he could see her face streaked with sweat and a sickly, blotchy blush around her cheeks and nose. Her eyes were cloudy and barely open, but he could tell she was looking at him.

"Zack," she whispered. He stopped in his tracks and bent his ears towards her.

"Yeah?"

"If I die this time, promise me you'll eat me?" Zack's eyes widened and a shadow of anger crossed his face.

"St… Stop being so dramatic, you little asshole," he yelled, watching her close her eyes again. "You ain't dyin' here! You aren't allowed! Got it?! I refuse!" When she didn't reply, Zack felt his chest constrict. She'd been sick with what killed her town before he met her, right? So she'd know what a fatal illness felt like. More than that, he was fairly sure that she was sick from the cold. If she died, it would be his fault for being stubborn.

"Besides," he continued nervously, "Your meat'll taste like shit if I eat you right now. So… So you have to get better, stupid!" When she still didn't respond, Zack began to feel his panic rise.

He was so busy trying to rouse her that he didn't hear the horses until they were nearly upon them. Looking up, he could see the pair of horses drawing a covered wagon with two men on the running board. Barely thinking, Zack dashed into the middle of the road, directly in front of the horses. They stopped and reared, causing the wagon to creak to a halt.

That was when Zack got his first good look at the humans. The sun's light was completely gone and his eyes had adjusted, but there was also a lantern hung from the side of their wagon to light their way. They were covered head to foot in black, gloved hands holding the horses' reigns. What was odd was their faces. They wore masks, the kind that Zack had seen occasionally on the doctor in Rachel's town when he traveled to treat the sick. The eyes were round and glassy and instead of a nose they had a great, curved beak like a crow's. Their heads were further covered by cowls and topped with tattered old hats. The one driving the team was the slightly taller of the two.

"Hey!" he yelled, causing the horses to nicker, "Hey, you guys are doctors, right?!"

"Not exactly," the taller one replied cautiously. "But close enough." Zack's ears perked up. They were humans and thus inherently worthy of his suspicion, but if they were something close to doctors, they could help Rachel and he wouldn't complain.

"Help… Help us!" he demanded. "Ray is sick, she… she needs medicine!" He had no idea if this would work or not, but if they caused them any trouble he could always kill them. But there was a chance they could help Rachel and he wasn't going to hesitate in taking it.

The two men turned to one another and seemed to be weighing their options. He could barely hear them speaking, but his ears were better than a human's. He could make out most of their conversation.

"That's a wolf…"

"What are they doing out here?"

"Is the girl one too?"

"You know how mother feels…"

"It doesn't matter…"

Before Zack could parse their intentions, the taller of the two turned back to them.

"We'll treat her," he said firmly. "You two can ride in the back." Zack didn't think twice. He nearly ran to the back of the wagon, hefting Rachel into the covered area and following her shortly after. He scooped her back up before moving to the front to sit directly behind the doctors.

The smell of death clung to them. There were a few carcasses in the wagon - two deer, a goat, and a calf – but the scent was of human death. It reminded Zack of the smell of Rachel's town, but fresher. He held Rachel closer, his fur standing on end as the wagon began to move.

"We'll treat her at our home," the smaller one said, turning in his seat to face Zack. "There's medicine there. Oh! Right!" Then he turned to the taller man.

"Where is it?"

"On the running board, by my feet."

After a few moments of fumbling, the shorter man shoved a warm cup at Zack. It smelled strongly of fermented fruit and cloves.

"Here, it's spiced wine," he said. "The town we just passed through sent it with us. You can have it all. It'll warm you up." Zack very nearly refused; he knew better than to trust humans. But his nerves were shot from the past few days as it was, and it smelled fine, if a little strong. He wrapped his free hand around it, keeping his other on the girl that was now laying across his lap. So he took it with a grunt and gulped it down. It burned as it went down, the alcohol stinging his taste buds. It was strong and unpleasant, but alcohol was always like that as far as Zack knew. If it would help warm him, though, it would probably be fine. If Rachel was awake, he'd have given her some too.

"Thanks," his voice was low and unsure. "I'm Zack, by the way. And she's Ray. She's not used to the cold." The shorter man seemed to be looking intently at the two of them. Something about it was making Zack uneasy. He pushed his suspicion aside and tried to be quiet. He had no idea how to act in front of humans when he needed something, so it was just better for him to keep his mouth shut.

But since the man was staring at them, Zack pulled back Rachel's hood to show her face – and lack of wolf ears.

"What's a wolf doing with a human girl?" the shorter man asked. It didn't seem like he expected a detailed answer, so Zack kept it short.

"It's a long story," he grumbled. "But we were traveling together and she got sick." The man in black nodded again wordlessly. Silence stretched for minutes between them as Zack cradled Rachel against him. Her breathing was deep and steady, but her face was still burning up.

The silence was eating at him. Zack turned to the running board and nearly opened his mouth to speak again but a wave of dizziness washed over him. He clutched Rachel tighter to his chest as he doubled over from the vertigo. The swaying of the wagon roiled his stomach, but he suddenly felt far too weak to even throw up. He leaned against the railing of the wagon just to keep from falling over. Looking back up to the running board, Zack could see the cold green lenses of the doctor's mask staring at him.

"Oh, it's starting to work. That was quick!"

As his consciousness began to fade, Zack could have kicked himself. He knew better than to trust humans.


	6. Chapter 6: Pale Grey

When Rachel awoke, the first thing she noticed was that she was actually very warm for once. It wasn't the warmth that she was used to, the kind she got from being underneath her comforter with Zack. It was the same as when her parents were still alive, when she had a warm home and bed in which to spend every night, and when her father's dog would curl up on her feet before she went to sleep. For one fleeting second, Rachel thought she was waking up from a dream, and the thought that the past few weeks were nothing but a dream was scarier than any nightmare.

But that misconception only lasted a second. This was not her old room and this was not her parents' house. As she sat up to rub her eyes, she realized that she was underneath her blanket from home. Her red cloak had been removed and hung on the closet door; her black overdress had also been removed, leaving her in her wool stockings and white underdress. There was a nice fire in the grate and her basket was on the bedside table. The bed was in the middle of the room; on one side was the fireplace and on the other was a curtained slat window. She could see daylight peeking in through the wooden planks.

"Zack?"

As the seconds stretched out with no answer, Rachel began to feel panic start to creep in on her. He'd been her constant companion for nearly three weeks at this point; his absence was incredibly worrisome.

Just as she was about to push herself out of the bed and plant her feet on the floor, the thick wooden door set into the wall beside the fireplace creaked open. Rachel looked to it, confused. Her expression, however, remained as stoic as ever.

"Oh, she's awake!"

The voice belonged to a matronly woman with auburn hair streaked with white. She was barely taller than Rachel and similarly proportioned, too. Her patched blue dress was overlaid with a pristine white apron and she carried a plain wooden tray with a wooden bowl atop it. She looked and seemed like she was old enough to be Rachel's mother. Unlike Rachel's mother, though, she seemed genuinely kind and gentle-natured.

"Umm, hello."

The kind-looking woman smiled at her and Rachel struggled to return the expression. It was then that she noticed a young, red-haired boy trundling along behind his mother. He peeked shyly around her shoulder; he looked to be no more than twelve years old.

"Mama, she's pretty," the boy whispered. Rachel's eyes widened, but she said nothing.

"Now, George," the older woman chided. "Please mind your manners. Here, dear. I brought you something to eat." As the woman approached, Rachel could see inside the bowl. It seemed to be a warm gruel, the kind that would be eaten at breakfast. She took it gratefully but didn't start eating just yet.

"Madame," she said hesitantly, "Can you… tell me how I got here? And where I am?" The lady folded her hands over her apron and nodded.

"We're just a bit north of Mont Thabor," she explained, pulling a rocking chair over. "As for how you got here, my sons brought you here." Rachel's eyebrows pinched together, but her expression remained neutral. The last thing she remembered was the snow starting and her having to be carried by Zack while he yelled at her to wake up.

"I see," she said slowly, staring into her bowl of porridge. "I was… Was I alone?" She didn't want to expose Zack to any human retaliation if she didn't have to. A shadow momentarily crossed the lady's face, but she hid it well. Rachel noticed, though.

"No, you…" she started, staring at her hands, folded in her lap. "I don't want to startle you, dear. But my sons found a wolf trying to eat you." Rachel reflexively touched the bandages on her neck. Had they misunderstood? Or was Zack possibly trying to fulfill his promise while she was still alive? The thoughts swirled in her head, making her dizzy. She must have looked ill just then, since the woman rose and steadied her with her hands.

"I'm really sorry," the woman tried to comfort her. "You'll be alright now. My sons took care of the wolf." Rachel's head snapped up to look at her. For the first time, her stoic expression changed to one of distress.

"What do you mean?" she asked, near frantic, "Where is he?" The woman shushed her gently.

"He can't get you here," she said softly. "There, there. He's gone. They dispatched him." The woman's green eyes were nothing but kind, but Rachel's chest squeezed with despair.

"No, he…"

If they killed him, it must have been because she'd slowed him down. She brought nothing but death and misery to those around her and now she'd gotten Zack killed as well. Her hands clutched the bowl, knuckles going white. Her breath came in sharp huffs and her vision began going dark in the corners. Rachel thought she might pass out again. The truth was, though, that she should have already been dead.

"Oh dear, the shock was too much for her," the woman lamented, turning to the younger boy. "George, go get…"

"Mother, is she awake?"

Rachel was so deep in her frantic thoughts that she hardly noticed the two taller men enter the room. When she turned to see them, face dull and pale, it was obvious that they were related to the other two. Both wore dirty farming clothes with heavy boots and gloves, and the shorter one was carrying a shovel. Both also had the same red hair and green eyes as their mother and younger brother. It was obvious they'd been out in the snow. Rachel might have even found them all charming, if she wasn't in the state she was currently in.

"Yes, but it seems like she's very upset," the woman lowered her voice as she stood, smoothing her hands over her apron. "Perhaps you should reassure her, Albert?" The older son smiled warmly at his mother as she tossed a reassuring smile over her shoulder to Rachel.

"Don't worry," he said with a nod, "You can go take a break. I'll talk to her."

"I'll see you soon, dear," the lady directed her voice at Rachel. "Come on, boys, let's give her a chance to rest." The youngest followed obediently, but the one Rachel figured was the middle child hung back.

"No, I wanted to speak with her, too," he said softly. Rachel's distress had receded to a point that she could watch this family's dynamics somewhat calmly. Even as her heart stung, she was curious what had happened.

"You don't need to worry about it, Eddie," the one named Albert reassured his brother. "I'll take care of her." Just before he said it, Rachel could have sworn she saw a faint flicker of annoyance flit across his face. Something was wrong here. What was it? Likewise, the one called Eddie smiled at his brother, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I had some questions to ask her." Eddie stood his ground. Rachel felt a small bit of relief at that. Albert's insistence made her a bit nervous, as did his disgruntled sigh as he gave in to Eddie.

"Fine, do what you want," he huffed, flopping into the rocking chair his mother had just vacated. As he slid his bright green eyes over to Rachel, she sat forward and turned to them.

"Where is he?" she asked quietly. "The wolf. Your mother said…" Albert laughed sharply, cutting her off.

"Sorry, we lied to her," he replied, his eyes keen.

"Mother has a deep phobia of wolves," Eddie said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed near Rachel's feet. She had the distinct feeling of being cornered. Even so, she felt a spark of hope well within her; it wasn't exactly a familiar feeling, but she didn't have time to marvel at it.

"Then he's…"

"He ran," Albert barely disguised his glee as Rachel's expression fell almost imperceptibly. "We pointed our flintlocks at him and he said you weren't worth the trouble." She didn't know what to think. On the one hand, there was relief that Zack was still alive. But on the other, she couldn't help but think he would never do something like that. He hated liars. He'd never go back on his word.

"You don't have to worry," Eddie said with a gentle smile, "That brute won't bother you again." He reached over to take Rachel's hand; his thick gloves were terribly cold, causing Rachel to instinctively withdraw. He looked just a bit disappointed but his brother apparently found the situation hilarious.

"Eddie, you idiot," Albert sneered with a hint of joy at being able to needle his younger brother. Then he turned to Rachel, his voice a bit kinder. "Either way, you're here now, with our family. We're going to take care of you from now on." Satisfied he'd said his piece, he rose and left the room, Eddie and Rachel both watching him leave.

Disheartened, Rachel turned her gaze towards the rapidly cooling gruel.

"Sorry about him," Eddie said with a sheepish smile, "A-Anyway, my name's Eddie. I don't think we ever caught yours." Rachel looked up at him, her face as devoid of emotion as ever.

"Rachel," she replied mechanically. "Rachel Gardner." His face lit up at the information.

"What a pretty name! It's nice to meet you, Rachel," he chimed, leaning towards her as she began to eat. "You had a fever when we found you, so we brought you home to our mother. Where are you from?" Rachel chewed. She was in no particular hurry to answer him.

"North of here," she answered quietly. "A small town called Tanay." Eddie's eyes lit up.

"That's pretty far from here!" he offered cordially. "We haven't gone that far out yet this year!" Rachel quirked an eyebrow at this admission.

"Gone?" she asked. "Do you travel?" At this, his face lit up again.

"We go where we're needed," he chimed, "We help bury the bodies wherever the pestilence comes through. We also go out hunting when we get a chance. The people who get sick don't have the strength to hunt, so we sell them meat. We live far out enough that we don't have to worry much about catching that illness again." Rachel was fully attentive now. That illness had spread?

"It's here, too?" she asked, feeling queasy. It was one thing to have wiped her own town off the map. It was another that it had spread this far south.

"Oh yes," Eddie said with a nod. "Before he caught it, our Father told us that it comes up from Lombardy and the Piedmont every dozen or so years and sweeps the countryside like a fire. When it comes through, our family dons our masks and helps to bury the dead. Pretty noble, right?" Eddie was obviously proud of his family's tradition, but Rachel was busy processing what he'd told her. If it was true it came from the south, then she may not have caused it after all.

She didn't know how to handle that information. If that was the case, and God hadn't sent the sickness to smite her town as punishment, then was it really still right for her to not want to live in this world? The prospect of continuing to live, surrounded by other humans, filled her with despair and anxiety. Even as nice as Eddie and his mother seemed to be, Rachel didn't really want to stay with them. Especially knowing that Zack was out there somewhere in the snow without her.

"Er, are you okay?"

Eddie's voice sounded very far away, but Rachel barely acknowledged him. She was worried about Zack. Did he have enough to eat? Was he warm? Would he be back for her? Or was it possibly true that he'd abandoned her?

"It's okay, Rachel," Eddie said, laying a hand on her covered legs to reassure her. "You're still pretty ill, so just rest up for today. You can just stay in here and get better, alright?"

Rachel nodded mutely. She had a lot to think about. In short order, Eddie also left the room, leaving Rachel in now-unfamiliar silence.

* * *

The hours ticked by as Rachel mostly kept to the bed, rising only to use the chamber pot. She could slowly feel her strength returning. The matron – Rachel found out her name was Mrs. Mason – brought her medicine and dinner. By the time the sun went down, Rachel was well enough to get up, walk across the room, and open the standing wardrobe beside the window. Sure enough, that was where her black overdress was hung. Then she turned to look out the window.

The ground was white as far as she could see through the slats. They seemed to be in a small clearance in a forest; she had no way to regain her bearings relative to where they were. Even if she could find Zack again, continuing to help him navigate would be difficult.

Thinking of Zack still, she scanned the landscape looking for his footprints or any other sign of him. There was nothing; only the tracks of a wagon and the boot prints of the Mason sons. But thinking of him made Rachel slightly nervous.

She didn't want to stop traveling with Zack. She didn't believe what Albert had said; she knew Zack better than that. But the fact that he had lied so blatantly – and Eddie hadn't contradicted him – meant that he wasn't dead and he surely hadn't abandoned her… and that they had to know what had happened to him.

But at the same time, if she hadn't been the cause of the illness that had destroyed her town, did she really have a right to ask Zack to eat her? It was entirely possible that she could simply stay with the Mason family after making sure he was okay. She could have a family – a real one – and live among humans again. She wouldn't have to worry about getting sick from the cold or being hungry.

But then why did that thought make her heart hurt so much?

Rachel was so busy mulling over the strange ache in her chest that she hardly noticed the door to her room open. The lights were low since she hadn't lit any lamps yet, but the fireplace glowed enough that she could still see reasonably well across the room at her new guest. It was the oldest Mason son, Albert. He was halfway across the room before Rachel really noticed him. It seemed that he'd removed his boots and gloves.

"Hey there," he acknowledged quietly, slinking around the edge of the bed to approach her.

"Oh," Rachel responded flatly. "Hello again." Out of everyone she'd met today, she liked this man the least. Maybe it was the way he'd laughed at his younger brother earlier, or maybe it was the fact that he'd lied to her without hesitation, but Rachel certainly didn't trust him. And she certainly didn't trust the glint in his eyes as he moved into her personal space.

"I see you're feeling better," Albert said, drawing even with Rachel at the window sill. He was a bit too close; she backed up a half-step out of reflex.

"Yes, thank you," she replied dully. Really, Rachel just wanted him to hurry up and leave. Instead, he placed a hand beside her on the wall and leaned in, caging her. He leaned forward with a seemingly kind smile, but the context of the situation made it incredibly unsettling.

"How do you like the room here?" he asked, reaching over to tip her chin up with his fingers. When she tried to move away, his grip tightened to hold her in place.

"It's fine," she said softly, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the situation.

"So our mother has offered to let you stay with us," he purred. "We would all be grateful for the company, especially since we hardly see cute girls anymore. I'd be most grateful of all…" Rachel's heart sank. She knew what Albert was probably getting at and she was completely uninterested. It reminded her of her hometown.

"Thank you for the hospitality," she replied as politely as possible, "But I'm well enough to travel now. If you don't mind, I'd like to leave in the morning." She hoped he'd back off, but this seemed to have the opposite effect; Albert leaned in instead.

"You want to go look for that wolf?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a chill down Rachel's spine. She froze and didn't let any reaction show on her face. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Albert chuckled.

"Is that the kind of man you like?" he asked, breathing into her ear. "Or should I say _dog_? Hey, is it true that their pricks-"

" _Albert._ "

He didn't move away, but he did stop. Rachel glanced over his shoulder to see Eddie standing in the doorway.

"I'm busy, Eddie," came the response without breaking eye contact with Rachel.

"Mother needs you," the younger man stated firmly. He stood his ground and actually stepped forward into the room. Albert looked like he was debating whether to tell him to shove off for another few seconds before he clearly decided against it.

"Fine," he growled, releasing Rachel with a snap of his hand. He tossed her another look and a smirk over his shoulder as he turned to leave.

"Don't worry, honey," he purred, voice like dark velvet. "I'll see you later." Rachel wasn't really scared, but she was certainly unhappy that her suspicions about the eldest Mason brother had been well-founded. As he left the room, he gave his brother a shove with his shoulder. It didn't knock Eddie off his feet, but he certainly swayed a bit.

As the door snapped shut, Eddie stepped further into the room. Rachel could see that his coveralls were a bit dirtier than before.

"I'm sorry about him, Rachel," he said sheepishly. "Please excuse my brother. He can be pushy, but he's not a bad person." Rachel was wholly uninterested in Albert or whatever excuses his family had for him.

"I see," she said, her reply non-committal, "What have you been doing? Your clothes are dirty." Eddie's face seemed to light up. Rachel couldn't begin to imagine why.

"You noticed!" he chirped, before laughing shyly, "Eh heh, sorry! I just had to deal with the animals out back. It's no big deal." Rachel gave him another glance and saw a few drops of blood on his right pant leg. He didn't seem to be injured, though. Her eyebrow rose, but she didn't mention it.

"Alright," she continued quietly. "Eddie, I think I'm well enough to travel again. I want to leave in the morning." His expression fell. He was much more emotive than his brother, letting his distress paint his face.

"No, you can't!" he exclaimed. A second later he schooled his expression. "I mean, it's way too cold to travel right now! You at least have to stay until spring! And… maybe then, you'll want to stay longer!" Rachel sincerely doubted it, but Eddie's earnestness was hard to deny.

"Ah," Rachel gave a neutral answer. Secretly, though, her mind was working through the situation. She was mostly recovered from the exposure that had made her sick the day before, but she would still need a good night's sleep before she would be fit to travel again. But there was no way she was going to sleep without blocking the doorway, with how Albert had just acted.

"Don't worry," Eddie said kindly, moving over to take Rachel's hands in his. He still had those cold gloves on, their texture making Rachel slightly uneasy. "I'll keep an eye on Albert so that he stays away, alright? And I'll keep him out of here so you'll be more comfortable. That way you can just rest and get better!" Eddie's voice was so sweet and sincere that Rachel nearly let her guard down. Maybe he was being bullied into lying to her by Albert? Whatever the case, certainly Eddie wasn't her enemy.

"Alright," she acquiesced. Eddie gave her another bright smile before releasing her hands.

"Mother's making supper right now," he chimed. "She'll bring you some by in a little while, alright? You look pretty thin, so we'll give you extra if you want!" She nodded, already weary of the company. Eddie didn't seem to notice; he disappeared out the door a few moments later, humming happily to himself.

Rachel wasn't used to that kind of overbearing kindness. It was too much for her, like a rich dessert. Her entire life until that sickness took hold of her had been lived in cold indifference from those around her. She could tolerate Zack's company; she actually enjoyed it. His gruff manner and lack of coddling suited her, and she missed his bouts of awkward gentleness.

The wayward thought of him made her chest ache; the Masons were hiding something about him from her. It was true that they'd only known each other for a few weeks. It was also true that Zack could be in turns taciturn and noisy, grumpy and sweet, awkward and yet utterly confident of himself. But the idea of abandoning him to whatever fate he'd fallen into, that didn't sit well with her.

But while others in the house were awake, Rachel had no choice but to play along.

* * *

" _Yes, of course we'll take good care of him~!"_

 _The middle-aged human woman stroked Zack's ears, her long nails scraping the roots of his fur. It felt nice, especially as he was still recovering from the burns on his face. Maybe this would be a better situation than the one he'd come from with his mother and her new mate._

 _The black-haired wolf bitch smiled sharply at the human couple who had agreed to take Zack in. In exchange for some light work, they'd provide him food and shelter, and his mother would be free to have a new litter. She leaned forward, extending her claws to smooth down Zack's hair. As her lips drew even with his ear, she whispered low enough that the human woman wouldn't be able to hear._

" _This whole time," her words pricked him like a knife, "I've wished you and your brothers were never born. I should have killed you when I killed them." His breath caught in his throat as she leaned back again, smile still in place. At that moment, Zack realized that some small part of him had held out hope that his mother at least didn't hate him. But that part died then, too._

 _He couldn't follow what all happened next. He couldn't remember their goodbye. He was in a daze as they loaded him into their wagon. Before he knew it, the sun had gone down and they had arrived at his new home._

 _It was a cottage on the outskirts of a human village. It was nothing special; Zack wasn't used to human dens, so he had no point of reference to know how normal it was._

 _As he trudged along behind the pair, they mounted the wooden porch of their house and opened the front door. Just as Zack attempted to go inside, the man extended a hand and held him back._

" _Dogs don't come inside," the husband said with a caustic smirk. "You're going to sleep out here and watch the house." Maybe Zack was tired from his trip, but he didn't understand exactly what this meant._

" _Watch… the house?"_

" _Is your head as fucked up as your face? Watch. The. House. Protect it from thieves. Why'd you think we bought you, mutt? If you wanna eat, you'll earn your keep and be our guard dog."_

 _With a laugh, the door swung shut behind the humans._

 _Months passed with Zack sleeping on the porch. It was cold out when he first came, but winter turned to spring and then eventually summer. The threadbare blanket he'd been given grew dirtier and thinner as the months wore on, but since it was warmer out, he didn't need it as much._

 _Food was always a problem, though. When Zack was fed at all, it was always scraps or old rancid food that had gone bad in the pantry. He might go a week without eating. At one point, the husband had even put gunpowder into his food in a twisted attempt to toughen him up. It was all horrible, but Zack ate it anyway. It was either that or starve. The couple seemed to believe that all this would make him a more vicious guard dog. It mostly just made him tired and weak._

 _He took most of this without complaint. What else could he do? He wasn't old enough to hunt and he had no idea how to get by on his own. So he lived with it._

 _Of course, it wasn't like he could go anywhere anyway. Not long after he arrived, they'd put him on a chain with a collar around his neck. He had eaten one of their chickens in a fit of hunger and that had necessitated a collar with inward facing spikes; if he pulled too hard on his chain, he'd find it digging into his skin. The other end of the chain was anchored to the wooden porch. He just hadn't been able to break the wooden porch spoke just yet._

 _That particular summer evening, Zack didn't even lift his head when the man of the house came in. He delivered the whelp a casual kick to the midsection as he crossed the threshold; he must have been returning home from an evening of drinking at the tavern. Zack laid there, trying to ignore the pain from the kick and the pain from his empty stomach. As the man called to his wife, Zack listened idly._

" _Listen to this!" the man laughed to his wife. "One of the merchants coming through tonight told me about a girl he knew about fifteen years ago. Got mixed up with one of those dog men."_

" _Oh, disgusting!" the wife answered back. "Don't tell me, when you say mixed up, do you mean…?" Zack could hear the sneer in the man's voice as he answered._

" _Probably a dogfucker," he continued. "That's hardly here nor there. Apparently, he ate her mother and grandmother and was about to make off with her when a huntsman came through and cut him open! Outright gutted the bastard!" Zack's eyes stared out at nothing. Night had fallen and his vision had already adjusted to the lack of light, but it was almost like he was blind. Was what the man said true? Had a wolf actually eaten humans? The other thing he said, about mating with a human, Zack couldn't think of anything less appealing. The only humans he knew were inside on the couch, failing for the ninth straight day in a row to feed him._

" _Oh, the poor girl," the wife nattered on. "But that's what she gets for treating those animals like people. Well, don't keep me in suspense! What happened to her?"_

" _Married the huntsman, of course," he replied, "Probably tryin' ta save her reputation or whatnot. Said they had three or four kids together by now."_

" _He's either a doormat or a complete dunce!"_

 _The two laughed cheerily, the noise grating in Zack's ears. But he barely heard them. He knew exactly what he had to do. He had never even given it a thought before, but if what that man said was true…._

… _humans were as much prey as that chicken he'd eaten._

 _The woman stayed up a little later than the man, tidying up the place. But eventually she followed her husband to bed. The chain was easy enough to pull out from the splintered wooden porch rail after all, and he could deal with the choke collar staying around his neck without the chain being anchored to the porch. He was so light and thin at that point that his footsteps were nearly silent except for the quiet jingling of the chain._

 _Zack ate very well that night. It was the most filling meal he'd ever had in his life._

* * *

"Wake up, mutt!"

Zack felt himself dragged back to the present from the snarled command and the kick to the chest. There was no mystery as to why he'd been dreaming about those two humans. History was repeating itself.

His vision swam but he managed to focus on the man standing in front of him. It was the taller of the two medics that he'd flagged down for help the night before. They were both redheads; the older of the two seemed more badly tempered, if his yelling and kicking was any indication.

Under normal circumstances, he'd have ripped this asshole's throat out and eaten it. Of course, these humans had been clever enough to cut that off at the pass. While he was knocked out from that drugged wine, they'd shackled and chained both arms and legs down to the ground. To add insult to injury, they'd even muffled his mouth; with no claws and no fangs, he was mostly defenseless.

Before he'd awoken, they had chained him into their stables. He had his own stall at least, and it was enough to keep the snow off of him, but it wasn't like that was any kind of comfort. It was still cold, it still smelled of horse dung, and the beatings he'd so far received made the whole experience considerably less pleasant.

The smirk of the man before him was also unpleasant. Zack hadn't seen that expression on a human in a while. It certainly made him hungry but it mostly made him angry. He wanted to wipe that obnoxious smile off his smug face.

"I just got back from talking to that girl you were with," the redhead taunted. Zack's eyes narrowed. Rachel was in their house, then. But listening to this guy talk about her made his blood boil. If he or his brother touched a hair on her head, Zack would make sure they suffered when he finally got out of those chains and ate them. All Zack could manage with the muzzle on his jaw, though, was a rumbling growl.

"Hey, don't get angry!" he continued, reaching a hand over to ruffle Zack's fur. "We're taking _very_ good care of her. In fact…" His fingers tugged at Zack's hair, pulling his head up to look him in the eyes.

"…she's going to be staying with us from now on."

White hot fury boiled up within Zack. Maybe it was the smug tone or the self-satisfied expression, but he wanted to rend this bastard limb from limb. He strained against his chains, feeling his skin tear where the shackles were digging in. They held firm in the ground and the wood of the stables, though.

"There, there, mutt," the man chimed, "I'll take good care of her, don't you worry. If you're really good, I might even let you see her before I sell you off! Or… I might let you hear us together, eh? I bet she'll be really loud when I stick it in her, won't she?" Zack's head spun with red haze. What was he trying to say he would do with Rachel? What was he implying?! Zack was never very bright, but he was fairly certain he got the gist of it. Worse, the way he was taunting him told Zack that he thought there was something more between the two of them than there was.

Still, the thought of this human bastard even talking to Rachel was enough to make him foam at the mouth. He would never touch a human girl, but that didn't mean he wanted her to be touched by anyone else.

"Did you know?" he continued, tugging at Zack's hair and pulling his head along with it. "She said she's happy to stay with me. She even thanked us for saving her from you!"

The force that Zack put on his chains at this proclamation caused the walls of the stable to shake. It wasn't just what the redhead was saying. It was that Zack knew for certain it was a lie. And he hated being lied to.

He was so busy struggling against his chains that he hardly noticed the tall man reach for a shovel. With a wicked grin, he lifted it over his head.

"Don't believe me? Don't worry - you'll see soon enough."

Just as Zack noticed what he was doing, the shovel slammed into his skull hard enough to drive him to the ground. But he had lost consciousness before he even hit it.


	7. Chapter 7: Midnight Black

Dinner was awkward and tense.

Mrs. Mason had brought Rachel a wooden bowl of soup, some kind of stew with potatoes and venison. It tasted good enough; in fact, it was better than anything Rachel had been able to make yet. But that wasn't the problem.

The woman herself was kind enough. Rachel would have probably been happy, had she been born into the Mason family and had this soft-spoken woman as her mother. But because she hadn't, because her own mother had been much colder and more bitter, she found herself mistrusting the older woman's intentions instinctively.

Of course, Mrs. Mason wasn't the reason Rachel was tense to begin with. It was Albert. But the older woman seemed oblivious to her eldest son's advances and Rachel doubted she'd be terribly concerned even if she told her. From her general understanding of mothers that weren't her own, they tended to defend their own children, no matter how ridiculous they were. And Albert seemed to have the run of things as the oldest man in the house.

The older lady's attempts at conversation only made the situation more awkward. Rachel figured the woman was probably starved for company. After all, the Mason family lived out in the forest, away from any towns and villages. They'd had no company for months, it seemed; even if that disease hadn't ravaged the countryside, Rachel doubted they'd had any visitors in recent memory. And Mrs. Mason herself was the only adult in the house that wasn't one of her own children, as well as the only other woman.

So Mrs. Mason told Rachel all about her life. How her sons were wonderful and how much she loved them. How she filled her days with cleaning and tending their pets and livestock. How kind and pleasant her husband was before he died. How there was another brother named Carl between Albert and Eddie, and how he'd been lost in a hunting accident. Rachel listened sympathetically, but all the while she couldn't help but notice that Mrs. Mason never actually talked about herself.

It was as if her entire personality was subsumed by her family. It weighed heavily in Rachel's gut, reminding her of unpleasant things. But Mrs. Mason didn't need to know about that.

Towards the end of the meal, though, there was one thing Mrs. Mason said about herself in a roundabout sort of way.

"What a lovely cloak," she remarked, looking over to Rachel's blood red hood as it hang from the hook on the back of the door. "I had one just like it when I was your age." Rachel thought she saw a flicker of something in the woman's eyes, but it was immediately shrouded by her kind mask. She didn't know how to ask about it, so she simply let the older lady continue when she saw fit.

"Come to think of it, I was wearing it when I first met my husband," she remarked, her expression turning somewhat wistful. But that was apparently all she had to say about that, as she dropped the subject after finishing her thought.

So Rachel patiently waited for the soft-spoken lady to finally gather her skirts and take her leave. But Rachel didn't think she'd be able to sleep.

For starters, as soon as the door slid shut, she heard voices in the hall. She knew Mrs. Mason was speaking to one of her sons in a low, soft voice. From the sounds of things, it was probably Eddie. Even putting her ear to the door, the thick wood muffled their whispering voices. But it was clear they were discussing her. Finally, she heard a key turn in the lock of the door and then the soft shuffle of footsteps as they retreated.

Rachel's eyes widened. It was possible they were simply locking Albert out. But that also meant she was locked _in._ There was no way she'd be able to wait until they were asleep to leave through the door and go look for Zack. It also meant that she would have to take her leave as soon as possible; with the door able to be locked from the outside, she was essentially trapped.

Rachel rushed to the wardrobe, flinging it open to retrieve her black overdress and other clothes. Minutes ticked by as she threw them on and it seemed as if the house had grown quiet. By the time she'd put her shoes on, the lights peeking from underneath the heavy wooden door had dimmed.

Creeping as silently as a mouse, Rachel approached the slatted window. The cold air from outside seeped in between the wooden planks; nearer to the fireplace, she was able to ignore the draft because of the heat from the fire. But as she inspected the window, that warmth was unable to overcome it. Curiously, she undid the latch on the window and then slowly worked it open. Before she could get it open wide enough to slip through, though, she heard a sound that nearly stopped her heart.

The outside door slammed loudly shut.

There were heavy footsteps, telling her that someone, most likely Albert, had just come back into the house. They also told her that he was headed her way. Silently, she crept back toward the door to listen; she figured she was safe because the door was locked.

Just as she pressed her ear to the crack of the doorframe, the doorknob jiggled.

It was quiet at first, then escalating to a furious shaking. After a few seconds, she heard swearing and then the heavy stomp of footsteps. Rachel froze as she listened.

"Why is the door locked, you little shit?"

There were a few more footsteps before they suddenly stopped. Rachel imagined Albert was talking to Eddie and that the younger man was staring his brother down.

"Why would I know? Maybe Rachel locked it."

There was some kind of scuffle just then, two pairs of boots shuffling on the floor along with the sounds of huffing. She heard the sound of a fist colliding with flesh and of someone slamming against the wall near her door.

"Don't lie to me!" came the hissed reply. Rachel thought they must have been trying to keep the noise to a minimum to avoid waking their mother. "I know it doesn't lock from the inside!" Rachel's eyes widened; it was just confirmation of what she'd already figured – that she was locked in like an animal.

There was another small scuffle between the two men. She couldn't tell exactly what was going on, but it sounded like Albert was looking for the key in Eddie's clothes. The younger man was clearly struggling and seemed short of breath, almost as though he was being choked. He finally released a heavy breath, followed by several short pants. Rachel's brow furrowed; had Albert gotten what he wanted?

His heavy footsteps answered that question. He approached the door, making no attempt to hide his intentions.

"Albert, please," Eddie pleaded from behind him. "You know how mother feels about this!"

"So?" he responded flippantly. "She'll come around and so will Rachel. It doesn't really matter what they want." As the words escaped his lips, the key slid into the lock with a metallic noise. Tumblers shifted into place, unlocking the door to the prize he sought. As soon as the lock clicked open, his hand was on the doorknob, turning it and pushing inward.

"Albert, you-!"

"Shut it, Eddie!" he barked over his shoulder. "Just sit out here and wait! Or you can listen if you want, I don't care." Albert laughed at what he clearly thought was a clever retort before turning to face the now-open room. But his mirth quickly turned to fury.

The room was empty.

"Are you screwing with me?!"

He rounded on Eddie, arm raised to strike, but the younger man had already taken a half-step back in shock.

"No, she… she was just here!" Eddie replied, startled. "Mother only just came out half an hour ago, and it's been locked this whole time!" Albert's head snapped back to look at the room again. This time he saw what he'd missed.

The window was wide open, curtains blowing inward as snow collected on the floor. Scanning the room, he could see that Rachel's shoes, cloak, and basket were all missing. Clearly she had left through the window. Albert cursed under his breath, probably recalling that she had been examining it earlier that day.

"You idiot!" he rounded on Eddie again. "You forgot to lock the window!"

"It _was_ locked!" the smaller man protested. His brother shoved him aside, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

"It doesn't matter!" Albert snarled, "Go make sure that damn wolf is still locked up in the barn. That's probably where she went." There was a small pause while Eddie seemed to think about it.

"This wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't still back there," the younger man said unhappily. "If Father was still alive…"

"But he's dead, so stop questioning me!" Albert ordered angrily, "I'm the man of this house now and you only stay here because I let you! Now get outside and find Rachel! Before the snow covers up her tracks-!" After a few more moments of stomping, both men were out on the porch. The door slammed heavily behind them.

Seconds stretched into minutes and their angry voices could be heard outside the house. Eventually they faded into the night, leaving the room with both window and door wide open. The only sound to be heard was that of the logs crackling in the fireplace. After a few more minutes of quiet, though, a low creak slid into the room as the door of the wardrobe cracked open.

Rachel peered from behind the door of the cabinet, making sure she was now alone. Her ruse had worked: Albert and Eddie both believed she had gone out the window. Better yet, the door was now open. Pulling her cloak tightly around her shoulders, Rachel rushed out of the door and into the main room of the house.

The Mason home was larger by far than Rachel's family's house. There didn't seem to be an upstairs; rather, there was a spacious front room with rocking chairs, a comfy looking bench, and a large fireplace. Mrs. Mason's sewing kit sat beside her rocking chair, where a half-finished quilt lay over the arm of the chair. Off to the back of the room there was a doorframe leading into the kitchen area, but Rachel had no time to explore it. Instead, she ran straight to the front door and threw it open.

It was snowing again outside. The night was dark and silent but the white of the snow reflected the heavy clouds very well; Rachel didn't even need her tinder box to see. Better still, it was obvious which way the barn was; the brothers' footprints lined the snow-filled ditches running along the side of the house. Rachel crept along the wall, keeping to the shadows.

Coming to the back of the house, Rachel found a snow-covered woodpile stacked against the side of the house. Across the back yard from the house was a large barn with the weak orange light of a small lantern pouring out of it. She watched long shadows stretch out into the snow, dancing with the flicker of the fire light. Angry voices floated to her through the cold air; apparently the Mason brothers were searching the barn for her.

The muffled impact of boot into muscle, followed by the shudder of chains made its way across the snowfield to her. A familiar cough then reached Rachel's ears. Her heart pinched in her chest; Zack was in there and he was injured.

She wanted to run straight to him but she knew better. She couldn't hope to take Albert in a fist fight and getting close enough to use her hand cannon was too risky. Rachel needed a way to draw the brothers away from Zack without getting too close. As her hand came to rest on the snowy woodpile, she had an idea.

The logs were cut just small enough that they fit fairly well in her hands and they weren't too heavy to pick up; they must have been cut with Mrs. Mason in mind. In fact, they were just light enough to toss. And looking across the mushy carriage tracks to the border of the woods, Rachel's plan clicked into place.

The soft but strong thud of something hitting the snow caused Albert and Eddie to both whip their heads around towards it. Snow flew up from the ground near the edge of the forest across from the house, shaking out of some bushes and causing slush to fall from the branches overhead and onto the ground. With a growl, Albert headed towards the commotion and drug Eddie along behind him.

Once they were clear of the barn and focused on the log she'd thrown into the border of the woods, Rachel dashed across the lawn. Snow flew up around her skirts as her feet flew over the whitened field, the cold air burning her lungs as she panted. Within a few seconds, she was in the barn and frantically looking into the stalls to find Zack. There were two horses, a couple of pigs, a stall full of goats, and in the very last stall…

A pang jolted Rachel's heart when she caught sight of Zack. He lay still on the ground on a bed of hay, splatters of blood soaked into the straw covering the dirt. She had to look past the bars covering his face to see his mouth; there was a wicked looking muzzle strapped to his jaw, keeping it clamped shut. His lips were red as well, the blood trickling down his cheek to pool underneath his face. His cloak and tunic were gone, leaving him in nothing but his breeches and boots, causing Rachel to worry that even if he was a wolf, he would still succumb to the cold as well. His bandages, normally just a bit dusty, were splattered with blood, soaking through on his chest and abdomen. Without even thinking about it, she began undoing the tie around her neck to pull her cloak off to lay over him.

But that was the least of their problems. As Rachel lay her red cloak over Zack's bare back, she could see the shackles attached to his ankles and wrists. Even though she had found him, she didn't have the key to unlock him. Albert probably had it, and Rachel would have to think of some way to get it from him. But for the moment, she had to focus on Zack.

She couldn't bare to see him this way. The strong wolf, the one who had almost killed her twice now, he was vulnerable and weak on the floor of a filthy barn. It was wrong, a wrongness that Rachel felt deep inside and at odds with the image of the powerful wolf that she'd grown accustomed to seeing. Even if she died or was trapped with the Masons, she didn't want Zack to suffer like this.

Quickly, hands shaking, she gently took his head and lifted it up. The back of his head was wet with blood; there was clearly a gash under his hair and he had probably been struck there. Judging from his inability to hold his head up, Rachel figured he'd been beaten into insensibility. But as she supported his head she saw his ears twitch and his eyes flutter. Fumbling at the back of his head, she undid the strap and let the muzzle fall away, freeing Zack's mouth.

Hazily, he opened his eyes and began to focus on Rachel's face.

"Zack?" she whispered, the tension peeking through her voice. "Zack, are you awake?"

"You came for me…?" His voice was rusty and rough; clearly his throat was raw from growling and having his jaw shut for the whole day hadn't done him any favors. Stranger still, the question implied he hadn't really expected her to come after him. "What a weird human…"

"Can you stand?" She got right to the point. "And do you know where the key to your shackles is?" He came back to full consciousness with a quick shake of his head.

"That red-haired asshole has it," he rasped. "The tall one…"

"That's Albert," Rachel confirmed, pushing Zack's hair back from his face. He seemed to be having trouble focusing on her, but he was certainly trying.

"On a first-name basis, huh?" he fussed as Rachel moved to inspect his wrist. She wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not, but his wrist was definitely raw from the rusty metal that had been wrapping it. There were damp, red places on his bandages underneath the shackles and running down his arms.

"Not that I want to be," she said, nearly apologetically. "Just stay still and I'll-"

"And you'll what?"

A chill washed over Rachel's entire body. Before she could turn her head to confirm what she'd just heard, she felt a hand tighten around her neck. In just another second, Rachel was pressed against the wooden wall of the barn, pinned by her neck.

"I knew you'd wind up here," Albert sneered with a wicked grin. " _Dogfucker._ " Rachel's hands attempted to pry his fingers away from her neck to no avail.

"Good thing I doubled back around, huh?"

"Let her go, you piece of shit, shrimp dick, festering _asshole_!"

Albert's eyes slid over to Zack, lit by the barn's lantern. They were green, but with an unearthly glow that Rachel didn't think she'd even seen on Zack at his worst. The wolf, meanwhile, was straining against his chains, pulling them taut from the wooden wall. Rachel could tell they were reinforced somehow; otherwise, with how hard he was pulling, he definitely would have destroyed the wood and yanked them free.

"Oh, you took its muzzle off?" Albert continued, squeezing Rachel's throat harder. His eyes slid slowly back over to her face; when their gazes finally met, the full weight of the cold settled on Rachel's entire soul. Without moving her at all, he wheeled a booted foot around to connect with Zack's jaw, sending him back to the ground. "What a sweet girl."

Zack climbed back to his knees unsteadily, spitting the blood from his mouth.

"Let's see how brave you are when I get outta these chains, you shitface human," Zack huffed. Without breaking eye contact with Rachel, Albert pulled a string out of his coverall pocket; there, dangling on the end, was the key to Zack's freedom.

"Need this first, don't ya?" he asked with a small laugh. "I know - I'll make you a deal." The predatory look on his face would've made a lesser woman faint, but Rachel refused be cowed by him. She stared Albert dead in the face, unflinching and steely. She could still hear the sound of Zack's low growl coming from the stable at her side, as well.

"What is it?" Rachel choked out. He didn't let up on her throat, though.

"You become my woman, I let the mutt go," Albert said, his face as smug as ever as he dangled the metal key from his free hand. It wasn't even a question; once Zack was free, he'd take care of Albert. Surely he must also know that.

"What's the catch?" she wheezed, eyes narrowing. His face lit up as though he'd been waiting for her to ask.

"Not as dumb as you look, are you?" he crooned. "Did you really think I'd just let him go without getting what I want first?" Rachel glanced over at Zack; he was still straining against his chains, the look on his face desperate.

"Ray, don't do it," he wheezed. "Don't listen to this ass-" Albert cut him off with another kick to the jaw.

"Well? How about it?" Albert crowed. "You won't hate it, and if you do a good enough job I'll even let you say goodbye." Rachel flicked another pleading look at Zack. She had an idea, but she would need him to behave long enough to pull it off.

"Okay," she finally agreed. Albert's smile became even more deranged as he released her and triumphantly slipped the key back into the front pocket of his coveralls. Rachel watched him keenly, tracking that key with her eyes. After rubbing her neck gingerly for a moment, she saw that Albert was already sliding the straps of his coveralls off his shoulders.

"Great!" he nearly laughed. "We can do it right here in the barn. That's pretty fancy for a little slut like you, huh?" Rachel wasn't unused to being insulted, so it didn't bother her. But Zack was getting more worked up by the second.

"The first thing I'm gonna do when I get these cuffs off," Zack growled as Albert made direct eye contact with him, "Is rip your dick off and feed it to ya." In response, Albert smirked, placed a hand on Ray's chest, and squeezed. She refused to flinch; maybe it was the lack of reaction that caused him to fling her to the ground a moment later. He followed quickly behind, pouncing and pushing her knees apart.

"At least it's gonna get a good work out with your little tramp here first, right, mutt?" Albert shot back, nearly overwhelmed with the glee of taunting the captive wolf.

Rachel could see Zack struggling against his chains just within reach of her left arm. She had fallen neatly in front of him in profile; she couldn't have planned it better herself. Not only was she just close enough that her plan could work, but if Albert was too fast for her, it wouldn't be within Zack's line of sight. In fact, as Albert was distracted by shoving his coveralls down to his knees, revealing his long underwear, Ray could see the little string fall out of the pocket and trail on the straw floor of the barn. She slid her hand under her splayed skirts, which Albert was gleefully shoving aside, and managed to just clutch the end of the string. After another few flexes of her fingers, the key was safely out of Albert's pocket and in her hand.

Before she could move her arm, though, Albert pinned her body with his and moved in for a kiss. Rachel was just fast enough to turn her face away in time to avoid him. Thwarting him made for a good distraction, though; in fact, she dodged another misplaced kiss, forcing him to grab her jaw with one hand and use his other to press her shoulder onto the ground.

"No kissing," Rachel said firmly, hoping he would just give up on the idea.

"Well, so little sluts can be picky, too," he sneered, meeting Rachel's eyes, "I'm gonna do a lot more than kiss you, though." Rachel stared back at him boldly, waiting for the right moment to slip the key to Zack. Presently, he gave her an idea.

"Get off of her, you asshole! Diseased shit head! _Fuckin' human!_ "

Had Zack been yelling epithets the entire time? Rachel wouldn't be surprised if she'd lost focus on listening to him, she was so busy trying to get that key. But this was another great opportunity. She lifted her hand to Zack's mouth, slipping the key between his teeth as subtly as she could.

"Zack, hush," she said quietly, begging him with her eyes to hurry. Albert's eyes were on him again, too, so he had to keep his mouth shut to keep the key hidden. Rachel could tell he was furious about it anyway.

"Just shut up and watch, mutt," Albert sneered with a smug grin before turning his attention back to Rachel's skirts. As soon as his eyes were off of him, Zack pushed the key halfway out of his mouth with his tongue and held it with his teeth. Before she could watch him unlock his shackles, though, Albert got Rachel's attention again by squeezing the inside of her thigh roughly.

"Alright, you little slag," he huffed, causing her eyes to narrow. "Get re-"

It took Rachel's mind a moment to catch up to what had just happened. One moment, Albert was gloating over her and the next there was a metallic thwack and he simply wasn't _there_ anymore. Rachel didn't bother asking questions; as soon as he was gone, she sat up to her knees and pushed her skirts back down. Then, rather than check where Albert had been flung, Rachel ignored it in favor of rushing to check on Zack.

He'd managed to nearly free one hand with his teeth when Rachel reached him. Wordlessly, she took the key from his mouth and turned the lock on the shackle with a tiny, metallic clink.

"Ray, you…" he began. She could guess he wanted to scold her, but now wasn't the time. They had more important things to do.

"I promise you can yell or hit me when we get out of here," she hurriedly whispered. Zack bristled at that, but Rachel studiously moved to free his other wrist.

"I'm not going to hit you, what the hell!"

His voice was drowned out by the sound of Albert screaming – only to be silenced by a wet 'thunk'. They both turned to see what had caused the commotion.

There were more impacts, the noise growing wetter and wetter each time. The source of the noise was a shovel, driving over and over into the head of Albert's prone form like an axe. The man smashing his skull in with the shovel stood over him, legs spread shoulder-width apart. His red scarf hung down his back, flapping with the motion of his arms. His coveralls were splattered and soaked with his brother's blood.

Finally satisfied that the problem was solved, Eddie froze with the shovel over his head. He panted from the effort, his shoulders heaving as he nearly hyperventilated. Then, his breathing turned to laughter. First one laugh, then another, then he was roaring as the tip of his shovel struck the floor of the barn. The peals of laughter shook his shoulders, the relieved cries of a freed man.

But it was decidedly eerie. Rachel and Zack both stared openly at him; Rachel could even feel Zack's hackles raise, just as the hair on the back of her neck was beginning to stand up. When Eddie turned to look at them, she understood why.

His face was splattered with his brother's blood but he was smiling widely. The lantern light reflected brightly off his green eyes, giving them the same unholy glow Albert's had only a few minutes ago. Rachel had opened Zack's other wrist shackle, but then froze under Eddie's unhinged stare.

"Hey, Rachel," he said, his voice totally dissonant with the look on his face. "Don't worry! You're safe now!" Reflexively, she wrapped her arms around Zack's bicep, gripping him tightly.

"But you really should get away from that monster."


	8. Chapter 8: Stained Red

"You need to step away from that monster."

Rachel's heart sank. She hadn't trusted Eddie, but she didn't expect _this_. It wasn't as though Albert would exactly be missed, probably by anyone other than his mother. But if Eddie was willing to murder his own brother with a shovel, there was no question what he'd do to Zack as soon as Rachel stepped away.

"I won't," she replied, unflinching. The deranged look in his eyes didn't waver a bit and Rachel was suddenly unsure who was worse between him and his brother.

"I only want to help you, Rachel," Eddie said, his voice as sweet as candy. "You don't know what that beast is capable of!" Zack growled deep in his chest before snapping at the redhead.

"You're one to talk, shithead," Zack barked. "Just look what your asshole brother was tryin' ta do!" Rachel could tell he was angrier than normal, but she had no idea why. She could ask about it later. For now, she held tight to his arm and looked for a way to de-escalate the situation.

"I'm not talking to you, hairball," Eddie said dismissively, that glint in his eyes directed towards Zack. "Come on, Rachel. You need to go inside to Mother." She only held Zack's arm tighter.

"No, Eddie," she replied softly. "I'm traveling with Zack. He's my companion. I don't belong here." Something changed at that moment. Zack reached over to grasp her upper arm in his big hand, wrapping his clawed fingers around her. In doing so, he pulled her closer to his chest. Rachel couldn't help the bit of heat that rushed to her face just then.

"Hear that, brat?!" Zack crowed. "She's with me, so fuck off!" Part of Rachel wanted to be angry with Zack for being so provocative when she just wanted to leave, but another secret part of her was pleased. It was a strange feeling, actually being wanted. She wasn't sure how she should feel about it, but she wanted to enjoy it.

Still another part of her was quietly terrified; surely he didn't mean it seriously. No one who knew her could really want her around, could they?

"Rachel, why is such a nice girl like you even _with_ this abomination? You belong with other humans, who'll treat you kindly!" She avoided answering, instead opting to plead directly with him.

"Eddie, please just let us be on our way," she said slowly. "I appreciate your kindness to me, but… with Albert gone, there's no reason you need us to stay, right?" She wasn't even sure why Albert had decided to keep Zack chained up in the first place, but she at least knew Eddie disagreed with that decision. If she could appeal to that, he might just step aside on his own.

The mad look in Eddie's eyes only intensified, though. Rachel nearly immediately realized she'd said the wrong thing.

"Oh, you heard us arguing earlier?" he asked, stepping towards them. "I apologize for him, Rachel. Albert's been mentally unstable for a while. It made him do a lot of foolish things." While he spoke, Rachel realized she might be able to use this topic to delay whatever plans Eddie had until she could unlock Zack's feet. As for the wolf, his ears were flat and his hackles raised as the redhead approached. His low growl was nearly constant at this point.

"Like… Like what?" she asked, fumbling with the key in her hand and trying to locate Zack's ankle. She grasped his calf through his boot and felt him start. He very nearly pulled away from her hand but quickly realized what she was up to. His leg was hidden by her skirts, so she hoped Eddie wouldn't realize what she was up to.

So far he hadn't. Instead, Eddie sighed.

"It's been just awful, Rachel," he said softly, moving towards them. "Ever since Father died, Albert's been in charge. The things he's done on our trips to the townsfolk… And to Carl… so you see, it's really for the best that I did this. He was dangerous!" Rachel nodded sympathetically, but she had already found the keyhole on Zack's ankle cuff. She slid the key inside and turned.

"I believe you, Eddie," she murmured, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "We won't tell anyone what happened. So please just let us go." If anything, he seemed angrier at her insistence.

"I think you misunderstood, Rachel," he objected, raising the pointed end of the shovel. "I didn't want Albert to keep that _thing_ in our barn. He thought we could sell it the next time we went to town." Rachel nearly dropped the key as she took it back out of the open shackle. Her heart hurt at the thought. She vaguely knew that some people traded the wolves for hired help but had no idea this was how they were treated. And she certainly never wanted to see Zack sold off like that.

"Yes, but… you won't have to worry about us now," Rachel pressed shakily. "We'll leave quietly." He definitely wasn't buying it, but she had to keep him busy until she could free Zack's other leg.

"But that's just it, Rachel," Eddie continued. "Albert wanted to sell him, but our Father always told us that the only good wolf was a dead wolf. We should've killed that creature as soon as we picked it up!"

"You little asshole!" Zack finally roared, unable to contain himself any longer. "You said you were gonna help Ray, but you drugged me instead!" He'd suddenly tensed up and moved to push Rachel to the side, making it more difficult for her to find his last shackle.

"What does a beast like you know, anyway?!" came the yelled retort. Eddie followed it up with a swing of his shovel towards Zack's face. Before it could connect, Rachel lunged from her kneeling position to tackle Eddie's legs and drive him back. As she left Zack's side, she also left the key beside him; hopefully he'd use it.

Eddie tumbled backwards and fell on his rear but kept a firm grip on his shovel. When Rachel looked up at his face, she could see he was confused and angry. When he tried to push himself off the floor of the barn, she tightened her arms around his legs.

"Rachel, let go!" he cried, his panic beginning to surface. Rachel shook her head, her blonde hair flying away from her cheeks and her eyes steely with determination. Eddie backed away with his arms, dragging the blonde as he went.

"I won't," Rachel responded quietly. "I'm not going to let you hurt him." Eddie managed to slip a foot away from her grip and kick her away. He connected with her jaw, forcing her back and causing her to squeal from the surprise. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she cradled where he'd kicked her.

"Rachel, I'm sorry," Eddie gasped, coming to his feet and then immediately crouching to check on her. "But you can't go against me like this!" He reached his gloved hand towards her face but she slapped it away. Rachel's eyes narrowed as she stared him down.

"Zack hasn't done anything to deserve this."

"Zack this, Zack that!" the redhead yelled, becoming even more distressed. "It's a wolf! It isn't even human! Why are you so attached to it?!" Even though Eddie was upset, Rachel simply grew colder in response. She had been yelled at enough in her life to no longer show any reaction to it.

"Because-"

"Ray, you don't have to tell him anything!"

"He's the one who's going to kill me."

The words hung as heavily in the air as snowflakes. The moment stretched on as Eddie stared openly at Rachel. She didn't back down. Rather, she stayed still, locking eyes with the redhead from her spot on the floor. Finally, after a long moment, he shook his head.

"That's not right," he murmured, covering his face with his gloved hand. "It's not right!" Rachel's brows knitted; she didn't need his approval.

"It's what I want," Rachel replied firmly. Eddie stopped shaking his head and looked at her from between his fingers. That same light was in his eyes again.

"If you want to die," he said softly, "Let me be the one to kill you." Not for the first time that night, Rachel felt the cold wash over her.

"What?"

"Let me be the one to do it!" Eddie repeated, that same mad light shimmering in his green eyes. "It's not right for a wolf to kill a human. Another human should do it! Besides… That way you'll be mine forever!" Rachel's head nearly spun. She felt like she'd lost the thread somewhere.

"Be… Be yours?"

"Right!" he continued, squeezing his shovel between his hands. "If I was the one to kill you, your last moments would belong to me instead of that fleabag! All those people I bury in the towns, they belong to the disease. When I buried Carl, his last moments belonged to Albert. I've never really had _anything_ that belonged to me alone, but if I had you…." He pulled his shovel to his chest, cradling it tenderly. Rachel couldn't tell if she should be horrified or if she should pity him. The redhead was clearly unhinged.

"A person can't _belong_ to another person," Rachel said softly, getting to her feet. She dusted off the skirt of her dress and looked Eddie in the eye again. "I'll never belong to _anyone_ , Eddie. Not even you." The redhaired man looked as though Rachel had struck him.

"But that's…" Eddie stammered, taking an unsteady step back. "That's not true! People belong to others all the time! That's… That's what marriage _is_!" But the clink of chains that Rachel finally heard behind her back nearly caused her to sigh with relief.

"Take the hint, shit for brains!" Zack roared, the glee in his voice poorly disguised. "The lady's not interested!" Suddenly a blur of black fur flashed past Rachel's shoulder; in a fraction of a second, Eddie was on his back, the breath knocked out of him from the force of the impact. Even though Zack had knocked him flat on his back, though, he hadn't managed to make contact with his neck like he'd wanted. Either he was too slow from being restrained for a day or Eddie was just too quick. But his claws were held at bay by the handle of the shorter man's shovel.

"Mangy furball!" the redhead yelled, recovering his breath. "What gives you the right to even touch me?!" Eddie managed to get a leg up to kick Zack away, knocking him off of his prone body and nearly back into Rachel.

"What makes you think you're better than me?" Zack sneered with an open grin. "You're just as much a murderer as me – the only difference is that I eat my prey!" Rachel could see that Eddie was furious; his boyish face was contorted with rage, hands shaking as he gripped his shovel.

"How dare you," Eddie hissed. "Animal! Nasty brute! You really think you're that close to being human?!" Zack snarled, then moved to pounce again.

"Who would wanna be human, anyway?" he retorted. "If humans are like you and your brother, I'd rather be a _dog_!" Rachel watched, frozen, as Zack tackled Eddie again, knocking him flat on his back. The smaller man couldn't get leverage to knock him off this time, nor could he do much more than hold Zack's claws at bay with his shovel. Instead, he must have thought a verbal attack would work.

"Oh, I get it now," Eddie said nearly so quietly that Rachel almost missed it. "Albert got it wrong - Rachel's not in love with _you. You've_ bonded with her!" The redhead smiled, certain that he'd gained the upper hand. And Zack did falter for a second. But after his shocked expression faded, he was more furious than before. Rachel watched in morbid curiosity as Zack abandoned any pretense of fair combat and began savaging the other man with his claws.

" _Fuck you, you little shit!_ " The words tumbled out in a cacophony, bleeding into one another until they were nearly indistinguishable from one another. "What the fuck do you know about that!? I'd rather _die_ than be bound with a human! _I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU YOU ARROGANTLITTLEBASTAAAARD!_ "

Rachel continued watching as Zack pounded him in the face, foregoing even his claws to vent his frustration. His bandaged knuckles were slick with blood; Eddie had briefly tried to shield his face from the blows to no avail. But soon his feet stopped moving from underneath Zack and Rachel had a horrible realization.

She threw herself onto Zack's back, wrapping her arms around his drawn-back arm to stop him from hitting the defenseless man. Clenching her eyes shut, she strained to hold him in place, but as soon as he realized it was Rachel on his back, Zack managed to just barely hold himself back. Still, he panted with the effort.

"Ray, let go," he ground out, his voice low. Rachel shook her head, tears nearly escaping her eyes. "Why?! Don't tell me you're soft on this guy!?"

What an absurd accusation. Still, she could hear the hurt threaded through Zack's voice.

"It's not that," she said quietly, holding tight to him. "His mother…" Zack rounded on her then, too, pushing her off and turning to face her.

"His mother shouldn't have raised such dick heads!" he roared, gesturing wildly at Eddie's gasping form. Rachel knew his irritation wasn't really directed at her, but she shrunk back anyway.

"She took care of me while I was sick," Rachel protested weakly. Zack was still breathing heavily, but at least he was distracted from hurting Eddie any further. His hackles seemed to be slowly coming back down, though.

It made Rachel feel a bit bad, really. She had been pampered in a warm house while Zack had been chained in a cold barn. Neither of them deserved that treatment and the wrongness hung heavily with her. Zack hadn't said anything about that inconsistency, but she didn't blame him at all for wanting to murder both Mason brothers.

"If you kill Eddie," Rachel continued softly, "There will be no one left to support his mother and younger brother." Zack snarled and reared back, delivering a kick to Eddie's ribs before stalking off to the stable he'd been housed in. Rachel followed him with her eyes, watching as he pulled his stained brown tunic and cloak off the corner of the stall and slipped it on. She'd have to check his bandages later, but first they needed to find their supplies.

There was a covered wagon just outside of the barn and Rachel figured that was the best place to start looking. Sure enough, when she stepped up on the running board, she saw their supplies in a corner; they had taken her blanket in with her, but the stores they'd carried from Cathy's den were there and intact.

"You wanna steal their wagon?" Zack called from behind her. Rachel turned around and stepped down, considering the possibility for a few moments.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "They use it to make their livelihood. Taking that would probably be as bad as killing the rest of them." Zack scoffed, turning his back on her again. But the more she thought about it, the more sense it made; they might not be able to travel well in the mountains before them with a wagon, but one of those horses would certainly be useful. The Mason family could surely make due with only one horse.

"Let's take the horse instead."

* * *

Mrs. Mason had awakened to the sounds of screaming outside. It seemed to be coming from the barn. It was likely Albert and Eddie having another argument over that Rachel girl, as they had many times since she'd arrived. She had hoped they would calm down soon, but when the noise stopped abruptly, something didn't sit right with her. She rose from the bed to check the girl's room, but it was wide open and the girl was missing.

That was why when the front door burst open a few minutes later, the older woman was already clutching the doorframe, watching expectantly. What she hadn't expected, however, was for a lanky, six foot tall wolf to stride right in like he owned the place. Mrs. Mason stared in horror as the black-haired creature sized her up silently. After another moment of tension, her worst nightmares began to be realized; he threw her third oldest son at her feet in a heap.

"Eddie!" she cried, dropping to her knees and checking his breathing. "You monster! What did you do?!"

"The fuck does it look like?!" he barked angrily. "Maybe tell your brats not to play with wolves!" The older woman stared up at the wolf with wet eyes; he was like a dark phantom sent to remind her of a sin long in her past.

Suddenly, there was a flash of blonde behind him, mounting the porch and clutching onto the wolf's cloak. Mrs. Mason immediately recognized the girl behind him as Rachel. What sort of curse had her sons brought into her house?

But really, that girl wasn't that much different from her. If there was any curse, it was her own from long ago.

"Go get your shit, Ray," the wolf muttered to her. The blonde girl nodded and ran off to the bedroom she'd been staying in, presumably to retrieve her blanket. By the time she had vanished, Mrs. Mason had pulled Eddie's head onto her lap; he was still breathing, his breaths ragged. He was heavily injured, but she was certain he would survive.

As he waited, the wolf trudged over to Mrs. Mason's rocking chair, tracking mud across the floor with his boots. He flopped down, not at all unlike a very large dog, and slumped heavily into the chair.

"Filthy, rude animal," she nearly sobbed. "Who do you think you are? And what did you do with Albert?! Where is he?" She wasn't even sure she wanted the answer, but she at least had to ask. The black-haired wolf propped his chin in his hand and grunted.

"Y'know what?" he grumbled, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than her. "I'll let _him_ explain that."

"You-!" she began before having to re-gather her composure. Then she began seeing the situation a bit more clearly. "What do you even want with that girl? Why my sons?!"

"Because _your_ _sons_ fucked with me, lady!" He sounded more frustrated than anything; a bundle of raw nerves wrapped in sleek black fur. "And it's not your problem what I want with her! Mind your own fuckin' business!" A chill washed over the older woman, recalling memories long suppressed. She narrowed her eyes as she watched his own reflect the light of the fireplace. She could just barely see it, but he was covered in bandages and splattered with blood – no doubt the blood of Eddie and Albert.

She had known something was wrong when they told her they'd killed a wolf and saved that girl. She could call it mother's intuition; she hadn't been able to put her finger on it, but she'd known there was a lie in there somewhere. So the wolf wasn't dead and he'd clearly returned for Rachel. And he was very defensive over her and Rachel didn't seem afraid of him. It was painfully obvious what was going on here.

"I'll tell you this," she said slowly, her voice dropping to only as loud as the popping of the fire, "Human girls don't bond like you lot." His hackles were up, his claws digging into the arms of the rocking chair. Whereas he'd been somewhat relaxed before, he was now tense and looked like he might spring for her.

"Shut the fuck u-"

But she wouldn't be silent. He needed to hear this.

"She might be kind to you now," the angry woman continued, "But one day, she'll realize you're nothing but a dirty animal. That you can't give her the kind of life a human woman wants and deserves." The wolf seemed to be growing larger as he stood; his ears were flat and the hair on his tail was standing straight out. He took one heavy step towards her, but she refused to back down.

"Stop it!"

"When she leaves you, you won't be able to go on," she hissed, "When a wolf's bond is broken like that, you're liable to die of the heartache." The fire reflected off the trails of tears streaking over her cheeks. The wolf was advancing towards her, but if what she was saying was wrong he wouldn't be bothered.

"Old woman, I swear I'll-"

"Leave her here with us," she pleaded. "She belongs with other humans!" She wasn't sure whether she was trying to convince the wolf or herself. Perhaps she was trying to justify some choice from long ago that only she and her now-dead husband were privy to. Either way, it was too late for her to question it now.

The wolf took a deep breath as if recalling some warning. His fur flattened again as he calmed himself down.

"Look, lady," he growled slowly. "I'm not forcing her to stay with me. If she wanted to stay with you, she'd have said so." Mrs. Mason's red brows furrowed as she stared the monster down.

"She's still just a child," she hissed, "She doesn't know what's best for her yet!" He growled, clearly barely holding himself back.

" _You old bag,_ " he barked, his lips curling over his teeth.

"Zack."

They both turned to see Rachel enter with her blanket over one arm and her basket over the other. As she walked past to join the wolf, Mrs. Mason could see that she was totally at ease with that monster. But she had to try one last time to save her; it still might not be too late.

"Rachel!" she cried, "Please! That _thing_ will only make you miserable! You belong with others like you!" Rachel simply stared at her with those chilling blue eyes, unmoved by her pleas. She hardly recognized her as the same girl she'd been tending for the past day.

"Miserable," she murmured, " _Miserable_. That's what my mother used to say. She said I made her miserable, too." There wasn't a hint of fear or pain in her voice; it was such a statement of bland fact that she seemed entirely unmoved. It chilled Mrs. Mason to her bones.

If ever there was a girl that _should_ be with wolves, it might very well be Rachel.

"Thank you for the hospitality, Mrs. Mason," she said softly, lifting her skirts a fraction of an inch and dropping into a small curtsey. "But we'll be going now."

And then in a wink, the wolf and his human girl were gone, leaving the woman to cradle her injured son. Mrs. Mason crossed herself over her chest and uttered a small prayer. It was surreal, as though she was watching her younger self walk out the door and into a different life.

* * *

Although they were out of immediate danger, Zack still felt stressed.

He cradled Ray between his legs and against his chest as they both balanced atop the Mason's draft horse. Ray had quickly renamed the horse Paul; while he was fairly skittish when Zack approached, Ray had made fast friends with him. Better still, Zack no longer had to carry all their belongings on his back. But that hadn't really lessened his mental load.

No, it was what the Masons had said that clawed into his brain like a thorn, leaving him short-tempered and exhausted.

The night was nearly halfway done and the snow still fell. Neither of them had wanted to stay at that accursed farmhouse, so they'd set out in the general direction of the road and started the horse walking. The snow wasn't terribly heavy, but the sky was still too overcast to see the moon or stars. Rachel couldn't reliably guide them now, so the road was their best bet.

If they couldn't find a shelter for the night, Ray had proposed a new scheme. If they were able to find a clearing, they could hang two of their blankets from tree branches to keep the snow off while they shared the third. Zack had already capitulated on his previous positions; they would sleep under the same blanket from now on and he would allow a small fire under their little "tent". But that brought him back around to the awful things the Masons had said and how they'd lodged in his mind.

He held her a little tighter to his front, clutching at her stomach. Her hood was nestled snugly under his chin; having Ray this close again soothed his nerves, and he relished the feeling that he could touch her, that she was real and with him. And although the other humans' smell had gotten into her hair, it was still uniquely hers and also calmed him.

But that was just the problem.

" _Papa… how did you bond with Mama?"_

" _You'll know when the time comes, Isaac. But I'll tell you this – I can catch her scent anywhere."_

Ugh. This stupid woman. He'd never wanted to be opened up to this kind of vulnerability. And Mrs. Mason seemed to have more knowledge of wolves than an average human, too; more than Ray, certainly. She at least knew the danger of a broken bond.

"You stink, Ray," he grumbled, responding more to his own thoughts than to the lingering smell of the Masons on Ray's clothes. In particular, Albert's smell was strongest from where he'd jumped on her and that irritated him even more.

"Ah?" she muttered, turning her head up to meet his eyes curiously. He simply glared in return. Sleeping next to him that night would probably eliminate any traces of that scent, but he felt like being petulant anyway. He was probably going to regret what he had to say.

"Yeah, _ah_ ," he sniped. "You smell like those assholes. It bugs me." But he was really beating around the bush with this.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking forward directly again. She was avoiding his eyes and shrinking against him and it pissed him off.

"Don't just apologize like that," he growled. "And don't do that sorta shit with guys while I'm around. It pisses me off." He felt Ray's head tilt to the side; she must have been considering his words.

"Do you mean Albert?" she asked softly. "I'm sorr—ouch!" He'd pinched her side rather hard.

"You don't have to apologize," he grumbled. "I know why you did it. It just pissed me off, is all." Ray turned in the saddle to look at him curiously. Zack shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to meet her eyes.

"Why?" she asked gently. "It doesn't matter." He nearly sputtered in indignation.

"Stupid girl!" he barked, eyes widening. "That's how ya get puppies!" Ray blinked at him slowly, as though he was speaking an entirely different language.

"Puppies?" she repeated blankly.

"Do I have to explain everything to you?! When you fool around with guys, your belly gets big and a couple months later, the pups come!" He was nearly snarling, but Ray looked genuinely surprised. Then she covered her face with her sleeve as though she was hiding a small laugh.

"Oh, you mean children," she said nearly to herself. "It doesn't matter. I can't do that anyway." Now it was Zack's turn to be struck dumb.

"Whaddaya mean you ' _can't do that_ '?" he snapped. "You're a human woman, ain'tcha?" Ray shook her head and Zack wasn't entirely sure what she meant by it.

"Our midwife said I was still too small," she replied. "She said I might be able to later, if I ate enough and grew some. But I still don't even get a monthly flow – ah, something like when wolf girls go into heat. It doesn't matter, though. I won't be around that much longer, remember?" Zack grunted; he didn't fully understand everything she was saying, but it sounded too personal for his liking. He also didn't like to be reminded that Ray wanted him to eat her. Sure, she'd probably be delicious – the most delicious human he'd ever eaten, even. But this conversation was awkward and wasn't helping his state of mind.

"Is that why you were okay with him doin' that shit?" he grunted. "Then why didn't you want him to kiss you?" Now it seemed like it was Ray's turn to be embarrassed. She turned away and looked forward, avoiding his gaze. Zack secretly felt a little thrilled that he'd managed to fluster her, though.

"Because people do those sorts of things with others that they don't love all the time," she murmured. "But you only kiss people you really love. And I wanted my first kiss to at least be a little special, if I get to have one." So Ray was secretly a little bit idealistic, huh? He'd learned something interesting. In response, Zack held her a little tighter as they bounced along the road. His chest pinched a bit, though; he had the brief thought that he never wanted her to feel the sort of pain and isolation that had led her to that conclusion again.

Almost immediately, Zack cursed inwardly at that feeling. He didn't really want to eat her, but he also didn't want to get too attached to her either. That was the sort of thing that got his poor, blind father killed.

"Zack?"

Her voice was hesitant as she looked up at him. Had he lost track of time? He _was_ fairly exhausted and figured they should stop for the night soon. Had she been calling his name while he zoned out?

"Huh?"

"I wanted to ask you. If… If someone changed their mind about something," she asked quietly, looking out at the forest bordering the road, "If they do that, does that make them a liar?" Maybe it was because he was tired, but Zack couldn't really wrap his mind around what she was asking or why.

"I guess it depends on what they changed their minds about," he said slowly. Zack wasn't very smart, but even he could tell when a conversation really meant something else. But Ray's face was inscrutable, and she had already turned away from him.

"Why d'ya ask?"

"No reason," she answered so softly that it almost got lost in the sounds of the snowflakes drifting to earth.

Zack clutched her tightly, burying his face in the back of her hood. Even through the scent of the Masons and the fireplaces she'd been near all day, Ray still smelled like Ray. And that soothed Zack's frayed nerves, perhaps more than he'd have really liked to admit.


	9. Chapter 9: Dreaming White

The morning dawned cold and slightly overcast. The sun peeked through the misty clouds, turning them an attractive salmon pink. The first lights of dawn glittered over the snow, giving the hills and forests a shimmering, iridescent quality. It was like something out of a fairy story.

And now Rachel was in a fit state to enjoy it. Although it meant she'd be cold, she was always partial to snowy mornings. Something about snowfalls was always magical to her.

Zack lay soundly asleep in their little pallet, his ears twitching as he snored. Rachel had already left their makeshift bed to check on their "tent". Last night's fire had already burned itself out, prompting her to make a small trip out of the safety of their blanket fort to gather more sticks to light. The evidence of the fire's absence was apparent when she checked their overhead blankets; while it was going, it had apparently helped melt any snow hitting the cloth. After it was out, the wet blankets had frozen solid. Since the snow seemed to have stopped, maybe knocking the white powder off and restarting the fire would dry them enough to roll them up?

Aside from taking care of their temporary shelter, she also tended their new horse, Paul. She had learned the basics of horse care working in the town's stables as a milk maid. Once she was fourteen, her father had insisted she bring in an income if she was going to continue living with them. Theoretically, the money was to pay for the food she ate, but Rachel noticed there was never any more food around the house; her father's bar tab did apparently shrink some, though.

So she had taken the best job that she could find. Rachel never minded if she got dirty or smelled bad; she got to work with the cute animals away from the other townspeople, and that was good enough for her.

Before they'd left the Masons' house the night before, she'd packed a few of Paul's things from the stable: a brush, a horse blanket, a hoof pick, a tether, a feed bag, and a few saddle bags. She didn't leave them utterly destitute; they still had another horse to care for, after all. But she took enough to keep their new horse well cared-for.

Now she had a bit of oats for him for breakfast, as well as some affection. As she stroked his brown and white muzzle she strapped the feed bag to his face. He was quite a docile horse, probably tamed years ago before all that family's misfortune. And best of all, he seemed to like Rachel quite a bit.

Once Paul was fed and watered, Rachel gathered some of the snow in their cook pot to melt for water, as well as some frozen sticks to restart their fire. Their little cook pit was just outside their blanket fort, surrounded by the biggest rocks they were able to dredge up in the dark. The blankets reached the ground and closed off the back, secured with rocks to keep the drafts down; between the residual heat of the small fire and Zack's body heat, Rachel had been decently comfortable through the night.

As she hit the striker and the fire sprang back to life, she cast another look over at her sleeping companion. The wolf seemed uncomfortable. He gritted his teeth and growled under his breath, fingers clutching at the blankets. Wordlessly, Rachel moved to sit beside his head. As soon as he woke, she could treat his wounds with the snow-water she'd managed to gather.

She ran her fingers through his hair, careful to avoid his ears, quietly entranced by its softness. It wasn't like petting Peter back home; it was another experience altogether. It was gentle and intimate, something she'd never even done with her own mother, let alone anyone else. And as she smoothed through his hair, he started to calm back down. The growling stopped, replaced by a low whine, and the teeth grinding stopped as well.

What was he dreaming about to be so worked up? Rachel wished she knew. But at the same time, she didn't want to tell him about her dreams, either. They were dreams where she was still home with her parents or where she was trapped by certain townsfolk. These were dreams that Rachel did her best to forget about during the day, and for the most part she succeeded.

If Zack was dreaming something similar, he'd probably not want to discuss it. It was just as well.

* * *

" _Papa… how did you bond with Mama?"_

" _You'll know when the time comes, Isaac. But I'll tell you this – I can catch her scent anywhere."_

 _Isaac peered up at the old gray wolf, watching the light sparkle off his dull eyes. He'd lost his sight long ago, probably before Isaac and his brothers were born. But it hadn't blunted his warmth or his kindness to his pups._

 _But even as he watched the old wolf smile at him, a shadow loomed behind his back. It had pointed ears just like Isaac's and the long black hair that he recognized as his mother's. He watched in horror as she raised her right hand, holding a knife. The light glinted so brightly off the human instrument that it nearly burnt his eyes._

 _Then he watched soundlessly as his mother struck her old mate down. Each stab made a wet 'thunk', hammering over and over again into the old wolf's heart. Isaac knew that wasn't the way it happened, but it was still real enough that he felt it viscerally._

 _Before the monster that was his mother could turn on him, though, he felt gentle, slender arms wrap around his chest. He was no longer a pup in this dream, he could tell that much._

" _Zack."_

 _It was Ray. She held him tightly around the midsection, pressing her cheek into his back. He froze as he realized he was trapped. Looking down, the slick knife held in her hands confirmed his worst fears. She loosened her grip on his ribcage just enough to raise the knife in her hand._

" _Don't try to get away…."_

Zack woke with a yelp, pushing up from the warm pile of blankets in a panic. As he tried to bring his frantic breathing back to a normal pace, he clutched his chest. It hurt right where he had dreamed he was about to get stabbed. After another moment or two, he realized why – Albert had kicked him there the day before. It was probably bruised.

"Zack?"

With a flick of his ears, he turned to see Ray kneeling beside him. She held a bowl of water, presumably snow that she'd melted over the small fire, along with a washcloth. The implication was clear.

"Ehh?" he fussed, turning away. "I had a bad dream, that's all." Ray nodded her understanding and didn't press the subject.

"I see," she said. "How are your wounds?" Zack bristled. He knew this was coming as soon as he saw the washcloth. He also knew that treating his wounds meant removing his bandages. With the weird mental state he'd been in the past couple days, he didn't exactly relish the thought of stripping down to his bare skin in front of Ray.

"What?" he asked, still sounding a bit prickly. "You tryna clean 'em or something?" Ray nodded, as passive as ever.

"Yes," she confirmed softly. "I don't want you to get an infection from that stable." Something about her concern, even as muted as it was, irritated him. It certainly didn't help his mental condition any. His tail swished from side to side as he contemplated how to respond.

"Why're you worried anyway?" he asked evenly. "I'm strong. No little infection is gonna stop me." Ray simply cocked her head to the side and lowered her eyelashes. That little demure look was cute, but Zack was determined to be petty after his bad dream.

"I don't want you to get sick," she replied softly. "Besides, if you get too sick, you won't be able to eat me." It almost sounded like a lame joke and this pissed him off even more. What kind of one-track minded monster did she take him for? If he had any intentions of eating her before, at that moment they were completely gone. He wasn't just going to do what she wanted.

In fact, as he thought about it, he realized that giving her what she wanted just then was probably actually the fastest way to get rid of her. If she saw his awful face and ran away from him, Zack wouldn't have to worry about eating her _or_ being bonded to her! In his fit of pique, it made perfect sense.

"You really want me to take these off?" he slyly replied. Ray's eyes flickered up to his face, meeting his gaze curiously.

"Yes?" she answered, "I can't treat your wounds with them on." Her voice was puzzled and naïve, but Zack figured it wouldn't stay that way for long. With a sadistic grin, he fingered the tattered edge of the bandage on his chin.

"Suit yourself," he sneered. "Don't go cryin' t'me when you don't like what ya see!" With a small tug, he pulled the wrappings on his chin free. They unwound easily, revealing his scarred, monstrous face bit by bit. The burn marks mingled with the black eyes and swollen nose he'd acquired from the Masons. When he looked up again, his face entirely freed of its covering, Ray was simply staring at him just as she had been before.

Her dead blue eyes blinked curiously at Zack, as if she didn't get that she was supposed to be scared. And suddenly, the gravity of the situation settled on him: he'd shown her his face – his awful, ugly face – and instead of scaring her away, she sat there unmoved. He genuinely didn't expect this outcome and he silently cursed himself for it. Was it so unbelievable that she might not be repulsed that he didn't even bother to consider it?

Instead, she openly watched him, head cocked to the side and strands of golden hair falling over her shoulder. Rather than scare her away, he had gained her acceptance. Zack felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. He'd made his situation _worse_ by somehow making it _better._

"This part just looks bruised," she finally said, lifting a hand to gently prod at a dark spot under his eye socket. "Is this what hurts the most?" She sounded like she expected other parts of his body to be hurt worse, in fact. But when Ray's little fingers grazed his cheek, he recoiled as though he'd been injured again. Unfortunately, the truth was that her touch was wonderful and nearly made him forget that he was trying to avoid her.

Abashed, he glanced to the side to avoid her gaze.

"No," he grumbled, his ears flattening against his head. It sounded like he was pouting and he hated it.

"Well, since it's already unwrapped, I'll get this first," she said gently, wetting the washcloth in the bowl of water. When she dabbed it over his face, Zack realized the water was still nice and warm. With a grunt, he resigned himself to the fact that it actually felt nice.

"Fine," he huffed, submitting himself to Ray's ministrations. She hummed under her breath as she swabbed his cheeks and nose, making sure to stay gentle and not rub too hard at his scabs. As she made her way down his neck and removed more bandages on her own, Zack repressed his need to growl and snap at her. But as soon as the washcloth touched the cords of muscle covered by scarred skin, he had to fight to keep from melting right into her hands.

"Can you tell me where to go next?" Ray asked patiently as she continued down to Zack's chest. He sighed, defeated, and pushed Ray back a bit so that he could slip his tunic off over his head.

"The places with lots of stains," grunted Zack. "That was where they got me with the shovel. Back o' my head, too." Ray nodded before moving to undo the bandages across Zack's chest, uncovering the bloody areas that had already dried and peeling the wounds freshly open. Dauntless, Ray pushed forward and continued unraveling his bandages until his chest was bare, too. Then she set to work swabbing it clean.

As she worked over his chest and cleaned his wounds, there was one area that was more sensitive than the others. It was right in the middle of his chest, where the Masons had kicked him multiple times. Now underneath the scars was a dark, nearly black mark where it had bruised. As Ray washed over it, even the little pressure she put on it caused Zack to hiss.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked, her voice empathetic. He met her eyes, colored for once with an emotion – worry.

"Nah," he shook his head. "It just hurts, is all. They got me good there." Ray dropped her eyes and continued washing, but Zack wrapped a clawed hand around her wrist. He didn't stop her; rather, he guided her hand around, sometimes leading her to a particular spot, sometimes letting her take the lead.

"I even felt it in my sleep," he added listlessly. Ray looked up at him curiously again, her eyes telegraphing the question before she spoke it.

"Is that why you jumped up like that?" She worried another spot and Zack released her hand. He was beginning to really enjoy this in spite of himself.

"I dreamed I got stabbed," he replied automatically. A second later, he regretted opening his mouth and bit back a groan. He hadn't planned on telling her that. " _Fuck_."

Ray stared at him, blinking slowly.

"You don't have to tell me about it," she equivocated. Zack let out a breath as she continued swabbing at him. Maybe it was better to tell her? He let her continue while he thought it over; his last impulsive decision had backfired spectacularly so he didn't particularly trust his own judgment at the moment. But if she was going to continue being around him, it might help her to know why he sometimes got snappy.

In particular, something Ray had said the night before had gotten under his skin. She expected he'd want to hit her or hurt her for what she'd done to free him. A bit of guilt stung him; obviously, something had happened in her past life that made her think that sort of thing was to be expected. The scent of the old blood in her house sprung to Zack's mind. And he hadn't exactly been on his best behavior since he'd been drugged by Cathy, either.

Fuck it. Maybe getting it off his chest would make him less antsy around her.

"Ray," he began, stopping short as she pulled her hand away. She dipped the washcloth back into the water, which was turning pink by this point.

"I'm done with that part," she interrupted. "Can you put your head down in my lap so I can clean your head wound?" Zack stared at her for a moment before grunting and scooting over. Then he flopped down on his side, laying his head on Ray's lap and facing away from her. Her thighs, bony as they were, were soft and firm and warm against his cheeks. Furthermore, the stink from those redheads was gone; she smelled more like herself again, the scent on her skirts mingled with his own.

It really did calm him.

"Ray," he murmured, burying his face in her skirt as she worked the dried blood out of his hair. This part seemed a little more difficult, but if he could stay like this with his head in her lap, he'd be happy. But he still wanted to tell her about the dream.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" she asked softly. Zack's ears twitched idly as her little hands sorted his fur.

"No," he muttered. "Ray, listen. I keep having bad dreams." Her hands stopped for a second before dampening a dried clump of bloody fur to work it free. His tail idly thumped against the leaf litter he lay on, still underneath their warm blanket.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her tone was impartial, but Zack thought there was warmth and empathy in it. Ray merely continued pulling the dirty fur apart, cleaning the strands. He'd have to wash it in standing water later, but this would help him be comfortable until then.

"Yeah," he continued. "I wanna get it off my chest." He sighed, letting the feeling of her fingers relax him.

"Is it because of yesterday?"

Zack grunted, burrowing further against her lap.

"No…." His eyes gazed out into the snow, unfocused and still hazy from sleepiness.

"The drugs…?" she asked with just a hint of incredulity. He slowly shook his head against her lap.

"Yeah, but before that, too." He lifted a hand to squeeze her knee, almost as a form of apology. She didn't stop cleaning his hair, but it nearly felt like she was petting him at that moment, the intimate kind of grooming a mother did for her pup, or one mate for another.

"I'm sorry," she reflexively apologized. It annoyed Zack a bit less this morning; it wasn't so much that she was saying she was sorry for making him have bad dreams. It was more that she was expressing her sympathy for him this time. He decided to let it slide.

"It's your smell," he continued. "I… I got hurt by humans before. Their smell irritates me, even if they taste good. So you reminded me of it at first." Ray hummed her understanding.

"But not now?"

Zack hesitated for a moment before deciding to continue.

"No," he admitted, his face burning. "You're fine now. But the dreams changed."

"Hmm?"

Zack swallowed, considering his next words very carefully.

"You're in 'em now," he nearly whispered. He could feel Ray nod her head.

"That makes sense," she soothed. "Since you're around me all the time now." She was still working on his hair, still soothing him with her fingers. Zack wasn't used to being treated so gently. Part of him mistrusted it, but another deeper part really liked it. He could easily see this becoming a habit.

He'd never seen himself as someone that would willingly shack up with a human. But more and more, it seemed like that was exactly what was happening. In fact, if anyone had told him at the beginning of the season that he'd enjoy being petted like a dog by a human girl, he'd have torn their throat open.

Yet here he was.

"I dreamed you were gonna kill me," he grumbled, nearly pouting at the nightmare. Ray's fingers stopped smoothing down Zack's fur; just as he was about to nag her to keep going, she continued hesitantly. But he wasn't sure he liked that reaction. Good thing he hadn't told her about the dream back in Cathy's den.

"I wouldn't do that to you," she finally whispered. Her voice was light and fragile, causing something inside Zack to spark. He wasn't sure exactly what that feeling was, but he didn't hate it. In fact, it frightened him just a bit, but it mostly felt just as nice as her fingers on his scalp.

Rather than reply, he grunted, rolling to bury his face in her skirt just a bit deeper. Maybe it was fine to enjoy Ray's presence for now. As he took in her scent again, an image of Mrs. Mason's angry face flashed through his mind. Hell, imagining that old hag from last night's horrified expression if she saw them like this made him smile in spite of himself.

He could worry about the future later. For this morning, Zack was content to just enjoy the grooming.

* * *

A few more days passed with the two of them camping like this. Luckily the snow didn't return and most of it melted off. But there were still iced over ponds and puddles dotting the landscape. Without the snow, the foothills of Mt. Thabor were dull and brownish-gray, lending them a gloomy quality that Zack had never really taken the time to notice during winter before. But the thorn of something pricked the back of his mind as they traveled through the area.

There was something familiar about it.

It couldn't have been the smell. Forests smelled largely the same where ever he travelled. They looked largely the same, too. But he was sure he'd been on this road, in these woods before. Maybe he'd come this way when he was travelling to his territory by Ray's town?

Whatever. It didn't matter. He could faintly smell other wolves in the area, so they couldn't stay here any longer than their usual overnight camps. There weren't really any territorial markings and everyone he scented seemed to be male, so they weren't exactly in any danger from any females in heat or males protecting their pups. But the idea of being seen by other wolves with Ray, especially with how chummy they'd gotten, didn't exactly appeal to Zack.

As they reached the shadow of the mountain, the trek got a bit harder. More of the snow and ice remained on the ground, portending harsher conditions in the passes. But as long as the weather held, Zack figured it wouldn't be too much of a problem.

There was also a small human village at the foot of the mountain. They came across it shortly before sundown, as the road they'd been following led right into it. There was some activity, but there didn't seem to be too many people there. Still, the well-lit windows let them know they should avoid it. They both agreed to take an alternate trail through the woods.

But Zack could still smell those others, as close as they were to the town. Their scent was even stronger now, in fact. It was odd, but not entirely dangerous, so again, Zack let it slide. They were vastly outnumbered, so there was no point in picking a fight. Even so, the pair found a nice clearing just outside of town to set up their camp for the night. As the sun went down, Zack hung the blankets from the branches and Ray began setting up the campfire.

Once the "tent" was constructed, Zack excused himself.

"M'goin' ta take a leak," he said to Ray, stretching his arms over his head with a little swish of his tail. "Y'need anything else?" Ray rose from her construction of the fire pit to give him a curious look.

"Maybe a few sticks for kindling," she replied thoughtfully. "Make sure not to get the wet ones off the ground." Zack rolled his eyes; she always reminded him of that.

"Fiiiine," he fussed before folding his arms behind his head and shuffling off past the trees. He'd been riding that horse all day and his hind parts were sore and stiff. He didn't need to just empty his bladder; he needed to stretch his legs, too.

There was another ulterior motive, though. Zack wanted to be nosy.

He finished his business quickly on the side of a tree. So far he hadn't seen any markings on the trees, which was a good sign. Territorial wolves tended to leave signs to warn off intruders and Zack hadn't found any so far. But he could smell them – many of them, probably a large pack.

As he was poking his head around another tree, he remembered suddenly that he probably knew where they were. This revelation filled him with both anticipation and dread. Anticipation in so much as their journey might finally have an end point, but it was accompanied by an equal measure of anxiety. If Zack found a new territory, the already strained promise to eat Ray if he got hungry was finally going to be broken. She might leave.

He groaned under his breath at the thought. Surely she wouldn't leave, though? She could have that horse – it didn't seem to like Zack much anyway. But the idea that Ray might just pack up and wander off somewhere distressed him a great deal – least of all because _he_ would be alone then.

Zack supposed he would just go back to living in a hole in the ground like he had been. But thinking about doing that without Ray around seemed dismal. When he thought about her living alone without him, though, it was substantially more irritating to him. Anything could happen to her! Just look at what happened with those Mason brothers!

Although if he was perfectly honest about it, she was also competent enough to get them both out of that situation, too.

At any rate, there were no more signs of the other wolves that Zack could find. They had left their scent quite recently, but other than that they just seemed to have passed through. If he was correct, though, their goal should have been on the side of the mountain in whose shadow they were currently camping.

Just as Zack turned to head back to camp, though, he caught the scent of something else. Not just the scent; there was the noise of a small branch snapping behind him. He turned slowly, not wanting to spook what he thought might be there. And as his gaze finally lighted on it, his mouth began to water.

He was absolutely majestic, a large red deer buck grazing through the snow. As he raised his head to appraise the wolf, the beams of the setting sun shone right through the prongs of his antlers. His firm muscles moved underneath his tawny pelt as he huffed and turned away. A small cloud of breath surrounded his muzzle, glittering crystalline in the sunset.

Zack's first thought was that the buck was out awfully late in the season. He didn't usually see them after the first snows. Perhaps he was holding out hope and risking starvation to find a mate. This led to Zack's second thought.

"… _You can't give her the kind of life a human woman wants and deserves."_

He heard Mrs. Mason's sneering voice in his head. He wanted nothing more than to spite that old crone.

But that buck could feed them for weeks. Especially since Ray had revealed to him that she was underfed from the beginning; Zack had already been giving her extra rations to try and get her weight up, but this was a prime opportunity to make sure she wasn't hungry.

Perhaps even more motivational, though, was the idea that he could drag that big stag back to camp and get Ray's praise. _'What a big, strong wolf,'_ she'd say, and maybe even reward him with a kiss. He couldn't fight the dopey grin that made its way to his face; she would be so impressed when he brought that prize back!

It had been a very long time since Zack had hunted anything other than humans. But he knew stealth was most important, and since the buck had turned away from him, it was the opportune time to jump it. Crouching, he flexed his claws and prepared to close the distance and strike.

* * *

Rachel had gathered enough sticks to start a fire on her own while Zack was off in the woods. From there, it was a simple matter to strike up the cook pit right outside their makeshift tent.

As she warmed her chilly hands over the fire, Rachel idly reflected on their past few days together. Zack had been much less standoffish since he'd told her about his nightmares. He snapped at her less and was more even-handed when they spoke, almost as if those traits had been in response to the dreams and not anything she had done. Whatever awful things he'd dreamed about her hadn't troubled him since, although Rachel couldn't dismiss the nagging sense of guilt she felt over that.

It wasn't as if she really deserved his kindness.

But she was more than willing to accept it, even if she was a bit like a thief with his affection. In the mornings, she had secretly begun to wake earlier than him, just as the sun was peeking over the hills. Rather than get up and start their breakfast, though, she was slothful, laying under the blankets in his arms, with her head on his chest. She would nuzzle in, listening to his heart beat and enjoying his scent. But when he eventually awoke, she would always pretend to be sleeping. Rachel liked making him 'wake' her.

There was more. There were mornings where Zack would sneak out of the blankets early, without attempting to wake her. She'd first noticed him doing this in the days before they encountered Cathy; she was always a bit curious what he was doing, but it was only this very morning that she woke up early enough to realize what it was.

As she lay against him that morning, warm in their shared blanket, she felt a large lump pressing against her leg. Curiously, she angled her hips and felt its outline against the inside of her leg; this was the forbidden thing that men hid inside their pants. Admittedly, Rachel had never had any interest in them before. In fact, several times she had gone out of her way to avoid having anything to do with those of other men.

But Zack piqued some new and thrilling curiosity in her now. Her heart thudded in her ears and she was suddenly nearly wide awake. Her fingers curled into his tunic; what would happen if she touched it with her hand? He would probably be angry with her; that time she petted his ears in his sleep, he'd been livid. And anyway, maybe he was just having a dream of someone or something else that caused it to be that way?

Even more frightening, what would even happen if he put that thing inside of her special place? Would it hurt? The few times she'd realized her parents were doing those things, her mother seemed to hate it. She had memories of her father yelling and of the older blonde woman crying in pain. For as much as the other girls her age had bragged about how wonderful their husbands were in bed and how much fun they had, it had always seemed to Rachel that they were lying. Her mother, at least, had said that was the source of all her misery on more than one occasion.

So instead of doing anything, Rachel lay there being at once tantalized and intimidated by the odd thing pressed against her thigh, curious but too afraid to do anything about it.

Not a few minutes later, Zack woke with a grunt, seemed to realize something was wrong, and swiftly crept away from the blankets. Rachel had pretended to still be asleep as he made his retreat, but she knew very well then what he must be doing.

When Zack returned a bit later, his body seemed colder but the lump was gone. He slipped right back where he had been, drawing Rachel to his chest and being careful not to 'wake' her. Whether he realized they were both acting or not, she couldn't tell. Either way, she was content to keep pretending and allow him to go back to sleep as he stroked her hair.

The popping of the small fire brought Ray back to the present. When Zack came back, she thought she might discuss something that she had been thinking quite hard about over the past few days - that being that she wasn't sure she actually wanted him to eat her anymore.

It was still true that she thought she should die – if anyone deserved it, it was her. But knowing that she hadn't actually caused her entire town to die had assuaged that some. She still didn't want to live among humans exactly; the Masons certainly hadn't helped that impression any, either. But maybe if she let Zack know she'd changed her mind, he'd allow her to continue staying with him. His physical reaction to her that morning had her hopeful, at least.

Still, a fragile, bell-like voice in the back of her head reminded her that she didn't deserve that small measure of happiness. And an even more sinister voice reminded her that she could only hurt Zack. Rachel _had_ made everyone in her family miserable at the very least. Nothing good would happen to Zack if he stayed with her.

Selfish. So selfish.

But maybe it was okay to be a little selfish sometimes?

As she stared at the fire and debated this, she heard twigs snap on the other side of the fire. After a lengthy absence, Zack had returned. The woods were dark behind him now, the last streaks of orange being the only color left in the sky. As he approached the edge of the firelight, though, Rachel thought something seemed off.

"Zack?"

Perhaps he was moving too slowly. Or it was that he seemed to be breathing too heavily. As he lurched into the edge of the light, Rachel could see he was in pain. She sprung up and raced to meet him; wrapping an arm around his back, she helped him to a sitting position on the ground.

"Haaaah, stupid," he huffed, rearranging his legs to get comfortable. "I'm a fuckin' idiot." Rachel came to rest between his legs, kneeling and inspecting him. The most likely problem was his stomach; she couldn't see it clearly because of his brown cloak hanging over it, but he was clutching it tightly.

"What happened?" she asked softly. Her expression concerned, she reached to touch the hand that gripped his stomach. As soon as she did, she pulled away; her fingertips were slick with blood. "Zack?!"

"I'm _fine_ ," he growled. "I just tried to jump something I shouldn't have." What she could see of his face under his hood and his bandages was contorted in pain. But then he looked up at her and forced a cocky smile.

"You shoulda seen it, Ray," he huffed out a half-brag. "Biggest buck I ever seen. Woulda put some meat on yer bones, eh?" Rachel shook her head. Had he gotten hurt trying to hunt food for her? A buck could impale a man with its horns; she'd seen more than one villager gored on the hunt from bucks and boars. And their stores weren't nearly so low that he needed to put himself in danger like that.

"At least let me see," she pleaded, prying his arm away from his midsection. As his resistance eroded, she was able to see his midsection more clearly. The cold, wet fabric glinted dully in the firelight; his entire stomach was soaked and dripping blood. He grumbled as Rachel's normally stoic façade began to crack.

"Stop it," he huffed, jerking his arm back to protect himself. "You look like I'm dyin' or somethin'." Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.

"I'll take Paul to find a doctor in that town," she said all in a rush. "Don't… Don't move from here…" Zack simply laid his ears back and growled.

"Don't you fuckin' dare," he ground out. "Most humans'd rather kill me as look at me. I'll be fine in a day or two. Just lemme sleep it off." Rachel leaned back on her heels. She was normally fairly passive, just going along to get along. She hated confrontation and she dreaded arguing. But even though Zack insisted he was fine, his life was obviously in danger. And as he slumped against a nearby tree, Rachel could tell he was rapidly losing consciousness. Her mind was spinning into a frenzy of fear and panic.

She didn't want to lose Zack.

Rachel panted frantically, trying not to cry out. She was so distracted with attempting to staunch the unconscious wolf's bleeding that she lost all sense of her surroundings. The dark woods faded around them, replaced with a haze of red. Her breaths became shallow and sharp, a small whine of frustration and helplessness running underneath her breathing.

Nothing else mattered but Zack. If he died, Rachel would have no reason whatsoever to continue living. She pulled at his tunic to reveal the gore wound, a jagged, vaguely round gash nearly half the size of her palm, pouring the slick crimson fluid over his bandaged abdomen. With no other ideas of how to staunch the bleeding, she bunched his tunic up around the wound and busied herself trying to apply pressure to it.

Rachel was so focused on Zack's predicament that she couldn't register her surroundings. She didn't notice the little pricks of light surrounding their campsite, first two, then four, then more peering at them from the edges of the orange firelight. Had she looked up, she might have noticed they were surrounded.

It wasn't until a clawed hand grasped her shoulder that Rachel was forcefully pulled out of her bloody haze. Even though she was startled, the hand was surprisingly gentle. Looking up, she could see a ring of wolves surrounding the two of them, all dressed in plain brown hooded robes.

"Please don't be afraid, little sister," the wolf's deep, soft voice directed, causing Rachel to freeze. The only motion now was the tears slipping down her reddened face.

"We'll take care of Brother Isaac from here."


	10. Chapter 10: Wolf Gray

Rachel's eyes focused on the wolves surrounding her and Zack. There were five or six of them – they weren't all easy to see – but they didn't seem ready to attack them. As the red haze cleared from the edges of her vision, she saw them crouching to tend to Zack.

"Step back, little sister," the one who'd touched her shoulder asked. "Let Brother Jean-Gabriel work." His voice was kind but firm; the fur peeking out from the hood of his brown cloak was wavy and black to match his ears. Rachel cast one more concerned look towards the wolf crouching over Zack; he had sandy blond ears and a fair complexion, his sweet face tense with concentration. Then she moved back, just enough to be out of the way; she didn't want to be far away from Zack, though. If she'd learned anything over the past half-month, it was that her trust of outsiders shouldn't be freely given.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said softly as she looked up at the black-haired wolf. "But who are you lot?" As she spoke, the other wolves were busying themselves by taking apart their little campsite; they took down the blankets Zack had hung and gathered their supplies, wrapping them back into their bundles. The blond wolf, meanwhile, worked on Zack's wound, stabilizing it to keep it clean and prevent more blood loss.

"We're Brothers of Mercy," he answered calmly, laying his clawed hand back on her shoulder to guide her farther away. "We minister to travelers in need. The pass here is treacherous in winter, although I can't say we've had many with injuries like _that_." Rachel glanced back at Zack; Jean-Gabriel was wrapping him tightly in one of their blankets, swaddling him and then binding him down with straps. Her first instinct was to rush over and stop him, but she quickly realized that he was securing him to move him from the campsite.

"Where are you taking him?" Rachel cut to the chase. She refused to let him be separated from her again, especially after the incident with the Masons. The black-haired wolf didn't seem to have taken offense.

"Our compound is on the mountain," he answered placidly, "We have an infirmary to treat him there." Rachel stood as Jean-Gabriel hoisted Zack over his shoulder like a sack of wheat before settling him over Paul's back. Another wolf, this one brunette, soothed the horse's skittish nerves as they secured Zack and fixed the saddle onto the horse.

"I'm coming, too," she said firmly, with just as much conviction as she felt. The black-haired wolf nodded.

"They're saddling the horse for you, little sister," he observed. "We don't need the mount, but you surely wouldn't want to leave him behind." Rachel watched the wolves, a faint crease of worry folding nearly imperceptibly between her brows.

"You're holy men, right?" she asked as the wolf with wavy hair began guiding her over to Paul. "Will it be okay for me to be in your compound? I'm…" The wolf nodded his understanding as he gestured for her to mount the horse. Rachel was used to having Zack help her up into the saddle due to her diminutive stature; she gave her new companion a pleading look before continuing.

"Umm, could you please help me up?"

He startled a second before nodding and hesitantly wrapping his hands respectfully around her waist and hoisting her into the saddle.

"It should be fine," he said with a little cough. "Our residents are all male, but we turn no one in need of help away. We've had families before and have a separate dwelling for them." As they began moving, going deeper into the woods and up the hillside, Rachel cast him a wary look.

"Ah, I… I think there's been a misunderstanding," she said reluctantly. The black-haired wolf walked easily alongside the horse, looking up at Rachel with the moonlight flashing off his yellow eyes. His expression was open and curious, non-judgmental; Rachel wasn't sure how he would react to their situation, though.

"Are you not Brother Isaac's bond-mate?"

Rachel felt some heat rise to her cheeks and wanted to hide her face behind her sleeves. She didn't know what "bonding" was exactly; Eddie had mentioned that, too, and she thought she heard Mrs. Mason say something about it to Zack while she was out of the room getting her things. Her best guess was that it was something like marriage. Little wonder this wolf assumed such a thing.

"No, we…" How to explain their situation? That she wanted to die and Zack offered to keep her with him until he was hungry enough to eat her? That this arrangement might be nearly ready to change? That they were just friends or traveling companions or might be on the cusp of something more?

"A-Ah, I just assumed because, well," the wolf stammered, looking out to the dark woods, "You see, his scent is very strong on you and your things…" The other wolves seemed to be giving them a courtesy distance to talk in semi-privacy, but she was sure they could hear them just fine.

"We sleep together," she said plainly. After reconsidering for a few moments, realizing it didn't sound like she wanted it to, she continued. "Err, for… for warmth, when it's cold." The wolf coughed, probably from embarrassment.

"Well, in any case," he moved on, "The Father will want to speak with you." Rachel felt guilt lance her, as though she had something to be ashamed of, outside of her usual portion of guilt, anyway. As silence stretched between them, something the wolf had said twice now prompted her to move the conversation forward.

"You called him 'Brother Isaac'," she said pointedly. "How do you know him?" They emerged from the copse of trees, onto a small, packed dirt road set into the side of the mountain. They were this close to another path and she hadn't realized it. She wondered if Zack had.

"Ah," her guide said, seemingly eager for the change of subject. "Brother Isaac stayed with us here years ago. He was an unruly pup when he was here and gave the older brothers a terrible time. Our Father wanted him to stay and take vows, but he, ahh…" He trailed off, as though he was reluctant to tell Rachel more. She nodded her understanding; she'd find out eventually, she was sure.

In any event, she now understood from where Zack had gotten his rough, brown hooded cloak. The brothers wore similar ones.

"I see," she replied. Then, almost to herself, "So his name is really Isaac." It was pretty, with a certain lilt to it. It was a Biblical name, like hers; the son of Abraham, famous for his sacrifice and last-minute rescue. For someone so gruff and stand-offish, such a soft and gentle name was a marked contrast.

"Mm," the wolf confirmed. "Yes, his name is Isaac. He must have asked you to call him Zack?" Rachel nodded her affirmation.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm Rachel Gardner, by the way." The yellow-eyed wolf cast her a pleasant smile.

"Brother Jean-Michel," he answered in kind. "We don't have much rigid hierarchy here, but our pack's leader is Father Gray. He'll see you once we settle Brother Isaac in." Rachel bit back her concerns and distrust and continued on with them. The placid wolves were easy to trust; none of them moved too fast or made much noise, leaving the woods around them undisturbed. She was sure they must hunt sometime, but for now they were simple penitents with their rough, plain robes and bare feet. Whatever discomfort she felt, she pushed aside; for Zack's sake, she could trust them.

Following the dirt road, they quickly made their way up the mountainside. This was the closest she'd been to openly traveling a proper road in a long time; when she lived with her parents, the errands she ran for her father to the doctor's cabin on the edge of the woods were the only time she really went along the road. That poor doctor who'd succumbed to that terrible illness, but who had also perhaps deserved it. But it was best not to think of that too much; it was over and all had received their divine punishment.

All but her.

She had a moment to think over her situation with a bit more contemplation while they traveled. Rachel would not receive any punishment, divine or otherwise, from Zack. Even if he wanted to kill her now, he wouldn't have the capacity, and she no longer wanted that anyway. But she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted from him now, either. She only knew that she wanted to stay with him.

But if these friars took him back, would he stay here? He had said once before that the leader here was a kind sort who could point him to a new territory, but that he had no intention of staying at the monastery. But seeing them now, seeing their kindness and placidity, their gentle nature, their calm demeanor, Rachel couldn't help but think that they could win anyone over. She could also see why a hothead like Zack wouldn't fit in there.

Suddenly, one by one, the wolves began baying. It wasn't overly loud or frightening; in fact, Rachel felt somewhat comforted by the sound. It started with their companion furthest away from Rachel and Zack, with the howls rippling towards them. Eventually, Jean-Michel howled too, causing Paul to hesitate just a bit. The horse had probably seen much worse, though, as he barely missed a step once Rachel soothed him with a pat. From behind her in the bundle on the horse's backside, Zack coughed and did his best to respond. Rather than a proud howl, though, he was reduced to something between a whine and a wheeze. In the distance down the road, a sole howl called back in response.

Even if it sounded weak, Rachel couldn't help but realize she was the only one who couldn't respond. She huddled into her cloak, feeling her otherness fully for perhaps the first time. It wasn't just that she was a girl and they were men, or even that they were wolves and she was not. It was that there were things she didn't understand and probably wouldn't be able to; even more so, those were things integral to Zack as a person. Was this how he felt when they were around the Masons and he was the only wolf?

Rachel didn't really think so. Zack never seemed to doubt himself. He took in his situation, made his decision, and carried it out. He was like this even when his decision was wrong or utterly dangerous or landed him on the back of a horse with a hole in his gut. She envied that kind of decisiveness, as well as his confidence; if she had been able to be that assertive, maybe things wouldn't have gone as badly as they had for her.

With these morose thoughts swirling through her head, Rachel realized they were approaching a large wooden gate. She looked up to see the reflective eyes of the wolf standing atop the watchtower, who had opened the gate. Taking a moment to turn back and pat Zack's bundle, she reassured him.

"We're here, Zack," she whispered.

As soon as they were through the gates, there was a flurry of activity. A pair of auburn-haired wolves, seemingly related by the appearance of their faces, pulled Rachel gently from the saddle and the brunette from earlier soothed the horse. A fourth wolf - Jean-Gabriel – unloaded Zack from the horse's rump and carried him over his shoulder towards one of the buildings. As Rachel followed them with her eyes, she began to move after them only to be stopped by the two wolves who'd helped her down.

"No, sister," one explained gently, pulling her in a different direction. "We have to let Jean-Gabriel work. We'll show you to the family quarters instead." Rachel's brows pinched as she was made to follow.

"But that's…"

"Don't worry," the other brother soothed, "He'll take good care of your bond-mate." She didn't dare correct them this time, instead taking one last look at where Jean-Gabriel was taking Zack. Looking forward, she could see their compound was full of wooden buildings, the front being mostly packed dirt with a few patches of dried vegetables that had recently finished their season. The one she seemed to be headed towards was a small wooden cabin set away from the main compound to the side of the grounds, around the back of the fence that the gate was set into.

"You'll like the family quarters, Ma'am," the wolf on her right chimed gently, "It's got a nice fireplace and we've even got a nice bed prepared in it!" Rachel felt more nervous than ever.

"I… You don't have to call me 'Ma'am'," she stammered nervously.

"Don't be silly," the one on the left said, "It's been a while since we saw Brother Isaac, so we want to treat his girl right!" Before Rachel could protest, the one on the right corrected him.

"Jean-Marc, you can't say it like that!" he hissed, "The right word is 'bond-mate'!" The one named Jean-Marc stuck out his tongue before replying.

"So what!" he barked under his breath, "Shut up, Jean-Luc! You're not the boss of me! Besides, she's a human, so the actual word is 'wife'!" It was too much for Rachel. She had to speak up.

"Boys, please," she said nervously. "We're not…" It fell on deaf ears, though, as the two brothers continued to bicker.

"See, you're scaring her!" Jean-Luc continued scolding. "You have to be gentle and respectful around girls! Especially human girls! Otherwise they'll be nervous!"

"She's with _Brother Isaac_!" Jean-Marc bandied back, "It's not like she'd be offended by anything _we_ could say! Hey, sister!" Rachel was nearly startled as she'd been totally spoken over until this point.

"Umm, yes?" she answered.

"How did you wind up with him anyway?" the precocious wolfling asked. "Doesn't he hate humans?" Rachel thought he couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen; that probably explained why he was so blunt. In short order, though, his brother shushed him.

"Jean-Marc!" Jean-Luc hissed. "You can't just tell her he hates humans! I-It's okay, Ma'am! He definitely doesn't hate you!"

"Not with how his scent is all over her," Jean-Marc said nearly under his breath. Rachel felt dizzy; she couldn't figure out her own feelings, let alone whatever these pups were implying. She couldn't tell if she wanted to cry or wanted to yell. Instead, she opted to keep her expression frozen; even if she was falling apart on the inside, it was best to just not let it show.

The two pups continued bickering as they approached the small cabin, but Rachel blocked them out. It was too stressful to keep listening to their argument, especially with Zack in the state he was in. It also didn't help that Rachel herself wasn't entirely sure just what they were to each other at the moment. "Bond-mates" didn't seem right, though.

Finally they reached the modest cabin. There was no porch and as the boys showed her in, she could see that the furnishings were also modest. There appeared to be only one room, but it also held a fireplace with a cookpot along with a large bed and a pair of rocking chairs. Had the two of them been a small family, perhaps with a child, it would have been a perfectly nice place to stay; even as they were, Rachel could imagine staying cozily with Zack here for a few days to rest. It was dangerously tempting.

"You can relax here for a little while," she finally heard Jean-Luc say. "Father Gray will be in shortly to talk with you."

"Don't be scared," Jean-Marc reassured her, "He looks old and cranky, but he's actually very nice!" As if on cue, another set of footsteps entered the cabin behind the two pups. Rachel could clearly see the taller wolf behind them, even as they realized they'd been caught being a bit improper with their guest. A firm, clawed hand landed on each pup's shoulder, letting them know for certain who was there.

"Have you helped our guest settle in, pups?"

His voice was deep and steady, like a great river. Rachel's expression barely changed, but her eyes certainly widened. The stately wolf standing behind his charges had his hood down, revealing a full pate of silver hair, right down to the tips of his pointed ears. His eyes seemed to reflect the light in much the same way as the younger wolves, but they seemed clouded and milky, making Rachel wonder if perhaps he had trouble seeing.

He certainly had no trouble navigating, though.

"Yes, Father Gray," they replied in perfect unison, one sounding abashed and the other sounding just slightly embarrassed. The older wolf, Father Gray, smiled at them both before shooing them away.

"Thank you for your help, Jean-Luc, Jean-Marc," he said calmly. "Please go see if Jean-Raphael needs any help in the stable. I'll see to our guest." Although there were chairs and a bed, Rachel didn't dare sit; as far as she knew, this wolf was Zack's father-figure and regardless of anything else, she wanted to make a good impression. As soon as the pups were clear of the room with the door shut behind them, she gathered her skirts and bowed a small curtsey.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality," she recited. Something about the very presence of this elder wolf unnerved her, although Rachel would be hard-pressed to say exactly what it was. As she looked up again, she noticed both his indulgent smile – as though he were observing a precocious child – and his remarkable scent. Had he carried that fragrance into the room with him? It was nearly strong enough to make Rachel's eyes water, but it wasn't a bad smell; on the contrary, it was sweet, almost sickeningly so. It reminded her of spring flowers: lilies, daffodils, hyacinths and the like, with some other spicy fragrance like oleander or monkshood underneath.

Whatever it was, Rachel's vision blurred at the edges and that fragrance was most likely the cause. As the door was closed and the air could no longer circulate, the scent only grew stronger.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Rachel Gardner," the silver wolf finally replied. It seemed like she'd been waiting forever, but before she could even move to reply, he had already made his way to the fireplace. In a few more moments, he had lit a fire there, all while Rachel looked on, dumbfounded.

"Finally?" she asked, speaking the first thought that came to her mind.

"Oh yes," Gray replied patiently. "The whole congregation has been in an uproar ever since they caught scent of you and Isaac this morning. Were that we could have met you under better circumstances." Rachel's mind felt as though she were in a fog. It took her just a moment to catch up to what the elder had just said.

"Ah," was the dutiful reply. "Zack said earlier that he wanted to come here, I think. He wanted to speak with you about finding new territory." Why was she speaking so much? Surely Zack would tell him himself when he felt better. Maybe it was just a compulsion to make small talk, to fill the empty, heavily scented air with conversation. But it felt different somehow, as though she couldn't lie to this wolf at all.

That idea subtly terrified her.

"I see," he said, standing from the fireplace. "Is he looking to start a little pack of his own now?" The fire roared to life in the grate and Rachel forced herself to sit on the edge of the bed to keep from tipping over at the suggestion. She wanted to be indignant about the continued misunderstanding, but it was perfectly understandable why the wolves were so insistent upon it. To them, they certainly must seem like a pair of besotted newlyweds, especially if they'd seen Zack first thing that morning.

"N-No," she stammered lightly. "It's not that. His old territory – my town – they all died of illness. He had no choice but to leave." As he sat across from her on one of the rocking chairs, Gray drew something out of his brown sleeves. The light from the fireplace twinkled on the chains of the censer, fragrant smoke roiling from between the voids in the bronze vessel. He set it on the table between the chairs to allow it to more fully permeate the air. Rachel simply watched, mesmerized; had he just performed a service that required it?

"But for a wolf like Isaac, who has such antipathy towards all females, and doubly so towards humans, to be keeping company with a human girl," the old wolf purposefully said, "Well, surely you can understand my curiosity. What sort of woman could master our untamable Isaac?"

Rachel wanted to protest, to deny she had 'tamed' him at all. Certainly it didn't feel like it, when he did things like getting himself gored by a deer. But it was undeniable that he treated her specially; he even treated her differently from when he had first found her. He allowed her all sorts of liberties that he'd never give to any other human. He allowed her to light fires to stay warm, over his own fears and objections. He even allowed her to sleep beside him, even when it caused him embarrassment and inconvenience.

Rachel's mouth had gone dry and her eyelids drooped. Why did she suddenly feel so sleepy? Her head fell forward for a moment before she slouched over onto the end of the bed. Breathing deeply, taking in even more of that smoke, she could see the old wolf staring pointedly at her from his chair with his glossy eyes.

"I'll hear your confession now, little sister."

* * *

Rachel's world was all white.

She didn't know how long she'd been in this hazy, white place. It was almost as though she'd woken up there, but she also had the impression of being drawn slowly into consciousness, as though she had been fractured and put back together. While her surroundings seemed like a snow field – cold, white, and barren – she couldn't dismiss the feeling that she wasn't alone either. And turning to look behind her, her suspicions were confirmed.

The other being with her was at once familiar and foreign. Her white dress, long and pristine as a christening gown, nearly blended into the environment entirely. Her ivory skin likewise barely distinguished itself from its surroundings. The silver-blonde hair very nearly provided a relief for Rachel's eyes, but it too was nearly blinding. In fact, the only part of the girl before her that she was able to look at for very long was her eyes: ice blue and cold, even as they seemed to be smiling.

Rachel recognized the apparition as herself.

"What are you?"

The girl smiled.

"I'm you," she answered in Rachel's voice. "The part of you that you've hidden until now, that's been drug out of the shadows." Rachel's eyes narrowed as the girl sat herself regally in midair, perched on nothing. It had to be a strange dream, brought on by that heady incense.

"What do you want?" she pressed on, fairly certain she already knew the answer. Her reflection cupped her chin in her graceful little hand and peered out at Rachel with her jewel-like eyes.

"I could ask you the very same question," the mimic returned. "What is it you're trying to get out of Isaac? That's what I'm here to determine – if you're a threat to him or not." Rachel was very nearly too stunned to answer.

"I'm not trying to get anything from him," she said meekly. She instinctively moved to cover her chest as though guarding her heart. Whatever this spirit was, she certainly got right to the point.

"Oh, come now," the other chided and her eyes danced with mirth, "Someone as utilitarian as you, who only sees human interaction as giving and taking, must want _something_ from him?" Almost as if floating, the white girl descended to where Rachel knelt and placed a hand on either side of her face. It was nearly shocking to see such a familiar face with such an unfamiliar expression. Rather than the blank look that Rachel usually had, her doppelganger had a soft, alluring smile. Was this really the her inside herself?

"I only want…"

But she found she couldn't answer. Whether it was from lack of knowledge or lack of ability to articulate, Rachel wasn't quite sure. But she didn't know how to answer that question. What _did_ she expect from Zack? Why did she stay by his side? Was it only out of self-preservation? She had wanted him to kill her and end her suffering, but she wasn't even sure of that anymore. Even though she didn't want that exactly anymore, she didn't know what she _did_ want.

It was also true that the spirit had assessed her correctly. Rachel really did only see herself in relation to how useful she could be towards others, and vice-versa. 'Useless', 'worthless', 'parasite', these were all things she'd heard enough to recognize them as her own traits. As the other her stared into her eyes, Rachel saw the flicker of satisfaction as she began to follow along.

Because if that was true of how she saw herself, then on some level, surely she saw Zack that way, too.

"Then what is it you get from him?" the other Rachel asked again. "A sense of power? That you have a big, strong wolf to protect you now? You're only a weak little girl, but with him around you have nothing to fear, right?" Rachel began to protest, but the words died in her throat. It was true that when she was with Zack, she felt invincible, as though no one could hurt her again. A pang of guilt lanced her; hadn't Zack been the one to get hurt instead of her?

The images flashed through her mind. Zack getting hurt by Cathy and then by the Masons. Those nightmares he had. His latest gash across his belly. Weren't those injuries all indirectly caused by her?

"Or is it that you're trying to escape responsibility by pushing it all off onto him?" the twin continued. "After all, if he kills you like you wanted, then you've pushed your sin off onto him and you'll be free to ascend to heaven, right?" Rachel felt her heart squeeze in her chest; that was exactly why she wanted him to kill her. After all, suicide was a sin and there was no one who would bother to pray for her soul. She'd be condemned to Purgatory or maybe even Hell forever if she took her own life.

But then who would be left to pray for Zack? To take care of him? To make sure he cleaned his wounds and stayed out of trouble? It felt hollow. Surely she needed him more than he needed a weak, scrawny girl like her. She had nothing to offer him that he needed.

"I really am selfish," she said softly, head hanging. Rachel thought of her mother then; she had always scolded her for being selfish. Whenever she troubled the woman, the familiar refrain would ring: don't be selfish, Rachel. If she didn't want to be selfish, she had to give, just like her mother; give and give until nothing was left but a hollow hole that had no choice but to start taking back. But because Rachel had nothing to give and didn't want to take selfishly, she chose instead to do nothing either way. If there were no good options, all she could do was refuse to pick any.

And so she was stuck. A girl who couldn't become a woman because there was no good way to become a woman. A traveling companion who couldn't become more to Zack because she couldn't figure out how to give and take without hurting him or herself.

The duplicate released her face and stood, walking away from her.

"You are," the other Rachel replied. "You are a terrible, selfish girl. But that's not what makes you a danger, is it?"

Rachel's head snapped up as she saw the duplicate smile coldly at her. She stumbled to her feet to follow after her.

"Stop it," she huffed softly.

"I won't," the double continued, walking backwards as Rachel closed in on her. "You know what it was that you did."

"Don't-!"

"And the reason you're a danger-"

"I'm not!"

"—to Isaac."

Rachel had a hold of the other girl's neck. She'd stop her from spilling out her sin, no matter what. She felt certain that if her copycat said her secret out loud, that Father Gray would hear it for sure.

"You can kill me here," she said with a smile, "But I already know what you did. And that's why I can't allow you to continue traveling with Isaac. Because what you did once, you can surely do again." With a frustrated grunt, Rachel squeezed her other self's neck. The other girl wheezed and choked, the soft flesh of her neck allowing Rachel's slender fingers to dig in. But her expression didn't change. It remained as smug and cocksure as it had been.

It was the first time she had been on the giving end of such a thing and she couldn't say she hated it. In fact, as her double's neck gave way and the girl exploded into a splash of crimson, Rachel found herself enjoying the feeling of having silenced her once and for all. Even as the red fluid washed over her, discoloring her own dress, skin, and hair, she couldn't help but smile.

The joy was fleeting, however. A moment later, she heard a laugh that she knew instinctively was supposed to be hers. It was an odd, foreign sound to her. Rachel hadn't heard herself laugh in years.

" _You might have ended this interview,"_ her own voice echoed back at her, _"But in doing so, you've proven exactly why you are unworthy. And none of this will erase the blight on your soul. Wretched sinner, until you understand the gravity of your crimes, you cannot repent of them. If you cannot do that, then you cannot continue on this path. Leave this place and leave my children in peace."_

The ground fell out from beneath Rachel's feet, sending her falling through the air. The white that had surrounded her blew away like so much mist, leaving her flying through the dark. The weightlessness transitioned seamlessly into memory; it was as though rather than falling, she was in her bed back home, listening to a conversation that seemed so far away, but was in reality less than a month ago.

" _I'm sure you know that I can't accept credit this time, Matthieu,"_ the voice came as though through water. _"But if your daughter lives, I'd happily take her instead."_

Rachel wanted to cry out or scream, but she knew it would do no good. She couldn't even lift a finger, let alone run away. Instead, she opted to fall deeper into her slumber, where no one could reach her. If she was lucky, she might stay asleep forever this time.


	11. Chapter 11: Stained Red

"He did _what_!?"

"Be still, idiot," Jean-Gabriel hissed a beleaguered sigh. "You're still injured and need to heal." Zack could still smell Ray's scent, and he was fairly sure it wasn't just from his bandages. Jean-Gabriel had had contact with her, too; there was another unfamiliar scent faintly underneath that, too, but Zack couldn't make it out. If possible, the fact that Jean-Gabriel had been close enough to get Ray's scent on him agitated Zack even more. The blond wolf pushed back against his patient's chest, pressing him into the coverings of the bed. The two of them were alone in the infirmary, but that didn't excuse the loudness.

It was mid-morning now and the grounds were busy with their normal goings-on. Zack could tell there was a bit of excitement surrounding their arrival, but the knowledge that Gray had interrogated Ray informed him what exactly that excitement was _about_. If she wasn't in the room with him, and Jean-Gabriel was refusing to say where she was, that could only mean one thing.

Gray had found her untrustworthy and disposed of her.

Zack knew this was something that happened from time to time. When he had stayed here before, he'd argued against housing any humans whatsoever; as far as Zack had been concerned, humans were inherently untrustworthy and should never be allowed in their camp full of orphaned wolves.

Gray was different, though. He wanted to help as many as he could, regardless of whether they were human or wolf. His residents were all male wolves; some were orphaned in territory disputes, some sent away because they weren't chosen to be their pack's heir. Some, like Zack, were even orphaned by their mothers when they started a new family.

Any humans that stopped by, however, were usually injured since Jean-Gabriel attended the medical needs of the townsfolk as well. But if the travelers smelled strange or set off Gray's nearly-supernatural sense of judgement and gave him a reason to suspect them, he would catch them alone and interrogate them. Most of them were fine and were allowed to stay. The ones who were sent away, though….

Zack had never known Gray's judgment to be false before. Whatever Ray had told him, he'd deemed it bad enough to separate them and send her on her way. It didn't exactly surprise him, even with this roundabout way of learning there was something bad or wrong about her. The girl was truly odd in how she reacted to things and the way she'd begged for death belied a guilty conscience. On the other hand, though, Zack didn't exactly _care_ anymore.

Whatever sin she'd committed, he was fairly sure that it didn't quite measure up to him killing and eating humans with his bare hands. Furthermore, it aggravated him to know that the choice to stay with her had been denied to him. Whether he was going to form a bond with her or whether he already _had_ , that was his problem, not Gray's.

They were just here for directions, not life advice.

Zack looked over to see the blond wolf at his bedside swishing his tail and giving him a disapproving look. He snorted, laying his ears flat against his head. His tunic and cloak had been removed and laid across a nearby chair. His chest was bandaged as it had been, but with fresh, clean wrappings, along with a line of stitches where the deer had gored him the night before. Jean-Gabriel had been the one to sew him.

"Look, if you're gonna say somethin', say it," Zack barked.

"I'm not saying anything," Jean-Gabriel replied curtly. "But if I remember correctly, didn't you leave here because…" Zack felt his cheeks flush and his hair stand on end. Of course this smart ass would bring that up.

"Shut your mouth, asshole!" he yelled, eyes flashing. "Ray is different! She's not like the other shitty humans!" Ugh, he sounded pathetic, like a lovesick idiot. Jean-Gabriel smirked ever-so-subtly, just plain enough that Zack caught it.

"Of course not." Were it anyone else, Zack wouldn't have batted an eye at the tone. But because he knew Jean-Gabriel, his teeth were set on edge. It was like he was mocking him. Whereas before Zack had been hesitant to commit himself to feeling any one distinct way about Ray, Jean-Gabriel made him want to elope with her right that moment. The way he was feeling this morning, he'd even be tempted to find Jean-Gabriel's bed and use that to consummate their relationship.

As though he could tell what Zack was thinking, the harried medic sighed again and cast him a longsuffering look.

"Look, Brother Isaac," he huffed, straightening his back. "You have taken no vows and I don't want to tell you how to conduct yourself. What I will tell you is to be careful of yourself. Father Gray never sends anyone away without a very good reason." His reasonableness frustrated Zack even more.

"He should've asked me first," Zack grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ray is _my_ responsibility. I'd've kept an eye on her." The gore wound still ached, as well as his injuries from the Masons and from Cathy, as if to remind him exactly why he had gotten those wounds. He hadn't been great about being responsible for her thus far.

"From your sickbed, I suppose," Jean-Gabriel peered out between his sandy blond curls, his blue eyes assessing Zack coolly. It got his hackles up again, but he shoved it down.

"When will I be fit to travel again?" Zack asked pointedly. The blond gave him a disinterested look.

"Are you going after her?" Plain, simple, and to the point. Zack wasn't exactly difficult to read.

"Of course I am! Are you stupid?!" Now the blond looked disappointed.

"Brother Isaac, be serious for a moment here," he said softly, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward to place his hands on his knees. "Have you actually bonded with this girl?" Zack's eyes widened; he very nearly snapped at the other wolf with a curt response, but he stopped short. Instead, he released his frustrations in a torrent.

"Look, I don't-" he began, dropping his voice. "I don't _know_ , alright!? I don't know! I don't actually know what ' _bonding_ ' really is or how I'm supposed to know if I've done it! I thought I didn't want to bond with _anyone_ , but I like being with Ray! I wanna keep traveling with her and I want her to stay in my new territory when I get one!" The blond raised an eyebrow, his expression halfway between pity and mockery.

"Well, it's not like _I've_ ever bonded with anyone," Jean-Gabriel replied succinctly, perhaps with a dusting of pink across his nose. "Or any of us, really. It's probably not as bad as you think it is, anyway, or we'd have a lot more dead wolves on our hands. But if this girl was dangerous enough for Father Gray to remove her, you might give a thought to finding a different one."

"I agree."

The two looked up to see Father Gray enter the sick room from the open corridor outside. The old wolf had his hands in his long, brown sleeves, a placid look on his face. The very early winter light fell over his flint gray hair, giving it the faintest silver sparkle, lending him the slight appearance of a ghost. Those milky eyes seemed to wander over to Zack and stare right through him. It made him grit his teeth and nearly growl.

"You old dog!" Zack huffed, his temper rising. "She's not a pair of shoes, I can't just ' _find another_ one'! Where did you put her!?" Jean-Gabriel sighed but Gray's expression barely changed. The tips of his ears flicked, though, signaling that he was somewhat displeased with Zack's attitude.

"At least greet me before calling me names," Gray scolded, pulling a plain chair to the bedside. "No harm has come to her, but I'm afraid I must insist that she is not welcome here." Zack could barely fight the growl that rose in his chest.

"As soon as I get out of this bed, I'm going to get her," he warned, his frustration barely disguised.

"You'll stay in that damn bed or I'll knock you out," Jean-Gabriel warned.

"Language, brother." The blond wolf grumbled and flattened his ears, but said nothing else. "You'll need at least a week to heal, and she will very well have moved on by that time." It sounded as though this had all been planned out without him, leaving Zack to watch helplessly as the ground was yanked out from underneath him.

Worse still, the prospect of never seeing Ray again settled a chill in his chest. His reluctance to be apart from her and the way it sent his stomach roiling wasn't normal. He'd never _needed_ anybody to be around him before; he'd never looked forward to seeing someone again when they were away from him before, either. There was a sharp fear that he might lose her, but the worse fear was that she might want to be rid of him; she might not wait for him to come find her at all.

He dismissed that within a second. If Ray had wanted rid of him, she'd have slipped away earlier. She would have been satisfied with being allowed a fire and wouldn't have insisted on sharing his bed every night. She would have simply stayed in the Mason's house and let them have their way.

"Bullshit!" Zack finally exclaimed. "I don't care what kinda confession she gave you – Ray wouldn't leave me!" Gray raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Language, please," he replied calmly, his tranquility making Zack angrier. "In any case, if it has improved your disposition towards humans, I cannot say I'm completely disappointed." Zack wanted to snarl in frustration, but the pain in his side stopped him. With a hiss, he clutched at his wound and leaned forward into his sheets.

"' _Improved my disposition_ ' my ass," he snarled. "I'd still just as soon piss on 'em as look at 'em." The old wolf looked at him then, the age showing in his features, before shaking his head. With a sigh, he touched his forehead as though he felt a headache coming on. Zack wouldn't be surprised if it was brought on by too much incense.

" _Language_ , Isaac," the older wolf replied, "Even so, what was it you came here for? The territory you found has become barren?" Zack relaxed a bit, glad for the change of subject. He could find Ray later on by her scent, maybe even later today if he could sneak out unassisted. But this was what they'd traveled here for, after all. Once he had his directions, he'd be gladly rid of this place again.

"Yeah," he grunted reluctantly. "Some disease or somethin'. Wiped the whole town out except for Ray. So we came here. But everywhere we've been has been just as dead." The old one nodded his head in understanding.

"That pestilence came from the other side of this pass and from the coasts," he responded gravely. "It affects man and wolf alike, laying them low with black pustules until they rattle their last breath. Even the Papal Estates at Avignon have been affected, although I've heard the Pontificate has yet to fall ill himself." Zack nodded; that was what he'd seen in Tanay.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Ray had it, too. But she lived." Both Gray and Jean-Gabriel stared openly at Zack then.

"What?"

"You nursed her back to health?" Jean-Gabriel asked incredulously. Something about the other wolves' disbelief was insulting.

"Not… Not like that!" he protested, face flushing behind his bandages. "She was up an' runnin' when I caught her! Wait… _you don't think I could!_ " Jean-Gabriel cast him a cool look while Gray coughed into his sleeve.

"No."

"When you _caught_ her?" Gray changed the subject handily, causing Zack's teeth to clench.

"If you made her confess, you already know what I was doin'," Zack grunted dismissively. It didn't cause Gray's icy look to soften any, though.

" _Isaac_."

"Fiiiine," he bayed like a pup with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "I was gonna eat her but she smelled too gross! And there was no one left to eat and like hell am I gonna spend all winter eatin' squirrels and shit!" Both wolves sighed and shook their heads, exchanging a frustrated look.

" _Language_ ," Gray reminded him before continuing. "I'm not judging you, Isaac, but you know I disapprove." He was _definitely_ judging Zack, but he wasn't going to press the point. Jean-Gabriel seemed slightly disgusted, but couldn't pass up the opportunity to make a comment.

"So you got gored hunting a buck to feed _her_ rather than eat her yourself," he stifled a smug chuckle. Zack growled quietly.

" _Shut it_ —oww!"

Even as he strained to yell at the older brother, his stitches hurt. Gray sighed again and pulled a small bottle from his sleeves.

"Settle down and rest, Isaac," the older wolf intoned. He rose and moved to Zack's bedside, setting the bottle on the table beside him. He looked suspiciously up at the elder.

"What's that?" Zack asked warily. The bottle was square and clear, but whatever was inside of it was dark and viscous, almost oily. It was certainly ominous. When he looked up at Gray, the older wolf beheld him with a look of pity.

"Medicine," he said gravely. "I mixed it for you myself. If you find yourself ill because of that girl, you can take that." Zack stared at the bottle suspiciously as though it was poison.

"You mean bond-sickness," Zack replied seriously. Then, finally seeing an opportunity to ask someone who'd know, he pressed on. "So you think I _am_ bonded to her." Gray turned away, folding his arms behind his back.

"It's not an accurate business," the old wolf stated. "But I'm fairly confident from your reactions that you have at least started to bond with her. I'll leave that medicine with you, in case you begin to feel ill from her absence. It should sedate you long enough to help you break your bond harmlessly."

Zack stared angrily at the bottle as Gray and Jean-Gabriel took their leave, the light from the fireplace glinting off of it. Although he had couched it in terms of mercy and illness, it was clear what the 'medicine' was actually for. It was meant to break his bond with Ray, whether he felt ill or not.

If he drank what was in that bottle, it wasn't like he'd forget her. He was fairly sure he would remember her and everything about her. But her smell would no longer affect him. He'd no longer feel the urge to hold her at night or when they were riding that horse. He wouldn't need to bury his nose in her hair or her hood anymore. And if he couldn't find her after all, that medicine would likely keep him alive.

Just a week ago he would've taken it without hesitation. But now, faced with an actual, permanent solution to his problem, Zack wasn't entirely sure his resolve was that strong anymore.

* * *

The sound of humming brought Rachel back to herself. She was flat on her back, covered to her chin with her quilt from home, on a soft featherbed. Looking blearily up at the wooden ceiling, she traced the grain of the planks, stopping to note the orange quality of the patch of light stretched across her field of view. Was it already afternoon?

As she lay there, Rachel was overcome by the vague feeling of sadness. Something was missing and at first she couldn't quite place what it might be. As her memories of the past day clicked into place, she began to slowly realize that her sadness wasn't vague or strange at all.

Zack wasn't there.

Something pricked at the corners of Rachel's eyes, gathering as a hot, stinging feeling in the back of her sinuses. Before she knew what was happening, trails of wet tears streaked down the sides of her face. Rachel hadn't cried in years, not even when she was hurt or scared. She brought an arm up to cover her eyes as she cried, a soft sob escaping her throat against her will.

"Oh, shh, shh!" came a feminine voice and a bustle of skirts. "Here, here, no crying now! A pretty girl like you has no need of tears." Rachel sniffled and tried, but the tears just wouldn't stop. All of the stress from the past nearly three weeks, all of the pain, all of the worry from being separated from Zack came flooding out in a torrent of tears. Before she could register what was happening, she found herself being pulled to a sitting position and pressed against the woman's chest.

"What was that old mutt thinking?" the woman muttered to herself as she smoothed Rachel's hair against her head. "Tossing a young girl out to fend for herself! He oughta be ashamed!" Rachel couldn't stop the flood of tears that poured out just then. This woman could be as bad as Mrs. Mason or even her own mother, but Rachel didn't care at the moment; if she was willing to hold her while she cried, she would trust her for just a little while.

And that's what she did. She cried until the sobbing stopped and her surroundings began to come more into focus. She seemed to be in a lightly furnished room with a small pot-bellied stove, a dresser, a table and a chair. As the fog of confusion cleared from her mind, she realized she was probably in an inn of some sort.

"I'm sorry," she finally murmured to the older woman through her tears. "I just…" She knew Zack would scold her for apologizing over nothing again, and that prompted another wave of tears.

"There, there," the hand on her back patted and stroked her as the woman spoke. "I don't mind. If you need to cry, cry. I'll listen." Rachel was finally able to focus well enough to look up at the woman. She was about her mother's age, but without the lines pinched around her mouth from frowning constantly. Her deep, golden hair was pinned behind her head in a messy bun, escaped strands curling around her cheeks. She was just a little bit plump, with an ample bosom and rosy, chubby cheeks, and just a bit taller than Rachel herself. Finally, her hazel eyes held a warm smile that Rachel found at once alien and comforting.

"I'm… I'm Rachel Gardner," she said quietly. She couldn't fight the suspicious thoughts that crept into her mind, but this woman had a light in her eyes that neither Mrs. Mason nor her mother had ever held. The woman smiled and patted her head.

"I'm Agnes," she said gently. "You're at my inn." Rachel's eyebrows pinched; she had no kind of money or valuables on her. She'd probably be expected to work her stay off. Seeing her expression, the older woman shook her head and smoothed her skirts, releasing Rachel back to sit on her own.

"I have an arrangement with the monastery," she explained. "You needn't worry. Old Gray will cover your room and board. He's even sent word to his sister convent to accept ya, if you want to go." Rachel stared at her, processing her words. A convent? She wasn't sure what she wanted her future to be, but she was certain that wasn't it.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "No, I don't want that." The matronly woman gave her a curious look.

"Well, what is it you _do_ want?" Agnes asked in return. "Have ya any family to go home to?" Rachel shook her head again, sopping the sleeve of her overdress against her cheek and nose.

"They're all gone," Rachel replied quietly. "And I wouldn't go back if I could. I only want to stay with Zack." The older blonde cocked her head to the side and blinked curiously.

"The wolf they're treating now?" Rachel wondered how this woman knew about that. "Poor thing. I can't believe that toothless old mutt separated you two. He must have his reasons, but _I_ don't have to mind them if I don't want." Was she offering to help Rachel reunite with Zack? Her eyes widened at the possibility.

"Will you help me get him back?" Rachel asked pointedly. Surely she couldn't stand up to that entire compound full of wolves, but if she had someone to help her then she could definitely take Zack back. The look the innkeeper gave her didn't seem especially promising, though.

"I may not agree with him, but I wouldn't set foot in those woods against Gray's wishes," Agnes warned her. "And if you try, that pack won't hesitate to make you sorry. You'd better be well sure that wolf you're after is worth it." Rachel fell silent, her eyes downcast.

"Of course he is," she whispered, more to herself than to Agnes. She heard the other woman tut as she rose from the bed and smoothed her skirts.

"I won't stop you," she said, the concern evident in her voice. "But I will ask you to reconsider. None of them will disobey the old dog, and they'll be on the lookout for you anyway. You ain't the first to be sent away and try to go back." Rachel looked over to see her basket sitting faithfully on the bedside table. She didn't know if she'd be able to outrun the wolves, but she might be able to get away from them with her hand cannon.

"Does anyone ever succeed?" she asked plainly. The other blonde quirked an eyebrow and shook her head.

"I don't fancy your odds, lass," Agnes answered skeptically. "Everyone else he's sent off has been a big, strappin' man. If they couldn't get past that pack, I doubt you could do, either." Rachel had no doubts. She might not make it, but she wasn't going to let that old monk ship her away to a convent, either. Still, if she was already decided, there was no sense wasting time on thinking about it.

"The others he sent away were all men?" she asked, pursuing another subject instead. It would at least be telling to find out the kind of company she was in.

"Usually thieves and traffickers and the like," Agnes replied breezily. "The monastery has little pups there, too, so Gray can get choosy about who he gives shelter to." Rachel's eyebrows pinched together thinking about this.

"And he sends them to you?" she asked incredulously. "Does… Does your husband help with them?" She couldn't see this woman holding her own against big, scary kidnappers and bandits. The other blond snorted and stifled a laugh.

"My girl, I've been widowed since I was your age," Agnes chimed with subtle amusement. "No, I run this place by myself. When old Gray sends me someone, he sends one of his brothers to stay until they leave. Most wouldn't dare brave those claws." This interested Rachel, but not because of the wolves.

"By yourself?" she pressed on. Outside of the old widowed midwife in her town, who was something of a necessity, Rachel had never known a woman who lived and worked all by herself. She couldn't even think of one back home. And this one ran an inn, where strangers came and went everyday.

"Oh, aye," said Agnes. "My in-laws passed on long ago and left this place to me. I've been on my own for, oh, about ten years now, I'd say." Then, she turned to Rachel with a bit of a twinkle in her eye.

"Of course, I have no one to leave this old place to when I pass on," she continued with a little wink. "Unless a good girl like you'd consider staying here instead, eh?" Rachel simply stared, not knowing how to respond to the kind offer.

"I'm only playing," the older woman soothed. "Besides, who knows? Maybe I won't be alone much longer." Leaving it on that enigmatic note, Agnes ruffled her skirts and turned lightly on her feet towards the door.

"Would you like some dinner before you go?" she asked over her shoulder as she reached the door. "I have a big pot of stew downstairs for the guests, but you're the only one today. If you join me, it's all yours?" Rachel followed her with her eyes as she left, waited a second, and then heaved her feet over the side of the bed to follow. She grabbed her hood and basket and then she was out the door.

The downstairs of the small inn was bright and cozy, consisting of a front desk, a bar, a large fireplace, and a few small tables of clean polished wood. Rachel remembered the tavern in her hometown and compared the two in her mind; she much preferred this one, for certain. Perhaps it was Agnes' feminine touch.

As Rachel settled in at a small table, the whirlwind of brown skirts bustled over and dropped a hot bowl of soup on the table before her. In response, her stomach grumbled. She looked up, clutching the front of her dress, to see Agnes give her a welcoming smile. Knowing the older woman approved, Rachel grabbed the bowl and begun slurping it down.

"Well, now," she chuckled, moving around to the seat across from Rachel with her own bowl. "Has that mangy ol' wolf been neglecting ya? Poor little thing, eat your fill! I'll make Ol' Gray pay the tab for ya!" Rachel felt compelled to defend Zack.

"N-No!" she protested around a mouthful of soup. "He feeds me well! Or tries, at least…" Guilt lanced her again, knowing how Zack had gotten his latest injury. Her host chuckled around her own mouthful of soup.

"Oh my!" Agnes prodded on, "So he's not so bad, is he?" Rachel recalled the hallucination she'd had earlier.

" _What is it you get from him?"_

"No," she said quietly, stirring her stew listlessly. "He's… kind to me." It sounded pathetic when she said it like that, but it was something that set Zack apart from anyone else she'd encountered. Even if he'd originally spared her life out of disgust, he'd ceased to do only the bare minimum to keep her alive a while ago. Instead, he'd indulged her wants and put her needs before his own. It was hard for Rachel to accept, but it didn't feel bad exactly.

As it was, though, Agnes looked singularly unimpressed.

"That's all?" she asked, disappointed. "He's just _kind_? Any man can be kind." Rachel stared at her hands, fumbling with her spoon. She knew it was an insufficient explanation, so she tried again.

"He… He doesn't hesitate," she remembered what she'd thought last night as they approached the monastery. "He knows what he wants to do and he does it. I don't think I could be like that if I tried to." Her companion raised her eyebrow and downed a spoonful of stew.

"Well," Agnes pressed on. "What is it _you_ want to do?" Rachel pinched her eyebrows together.

"What do you mean?" She was only doing what she had to do to get by. When she woke up to find her entire town dead, Rachel had wanted to die, too. But upon learning that their deaths weren't actually her fault, there was no longer any real reason she _should_ die. Besides which, she had begun to enjoy traveling with Zack. If anything, she couldn't see herself living without him. He made her feel _human._

Maybe Zack could be her spark, the person who made her want to continue living.

"You have things you want to do, don't you?" Agnes asked, seemingly oblivious to the internal debate Rachel was having. "Some work you'd like to do, or some place you want to see? A pilgrimage? Don't tell me ya just wanna marry that ol' wolf and call that 'good enough'?" Rachel shook her head feverishly.

"No," she said quickly. "I don't want… to be miserable… like my mother." Her hand trembled just saying it; she had to use her other hand just to steady the one holding the spoon. Agnes blinked and set her own spoon on the table, then reached over to cover Rachel's hands with her own.

"Rachel," the older woman intoned, looking directly at her with her gold-flecked hazel eyes. "Do you think that wolf will make you miserable like that?" Rachel gave it a thought. Sure, Zack liked to yell and be noisy. He could be violent. But none of it was directed at her. With her, he was gentle and indulgent. He wouldn't lie to her. And he certainly wouldn't do the things she saw her father do to her mother. If anything, Zack was more liable to be _over_ protective of her.

"No," Rachel replied quietly. "He'd never do anything like that." The older woman gave her a curious look.

"Well, I won't lie and say everything will definitely turn out alright," she said, "But you're still young yet. Don't rush into anything you don't want." Rachel gave her a nod of understanding as she let the advice sink in. If she wasn't going to die any time soon, there was no reason to rush to conclusions. She could take her time getting to know Zack. As she mulled this over, a thought occurred to her.

"Didn't you get married younger than I am now?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Agnes smiled sheepishly.

"I was fifteen and he was much older," Agnes recounted, a humorous lilt to her voice. "I was barely sixteen before he went and got himself thrown from the saddle during a hunt. Didn't hardly know him enough ta miss him. His folks were plenty kind, though, and better than goin' back to the ones that pawned me off on 'im!" Rachel thought on this. Agnes was alone here, but she seemed to be satisfied with her lot in life. There wasn't anyone to whom she was beholden. She was a grown woman, but she wasn't unhappy.

It made Rachel a little bit hopeful.

"You never tried to remarry?" Agnes shook her head with a smile.

"Never had a need," she replied. "This little pass town is small and most of the residents have one foot in the grave already. Our visitors are noblemen on hunting parties and travelers, so if I get lonely I have but to wiggle my little finger and find my bed a bit warmer! There's even been a wolf or two, tell ya the truth!"

Rachel was quietly fascinated. By all accounts, the woman across the table from her should have been more miserable than her own mother. She didn't seem to be pretending to be happy or keeping up pretenses; on the contrary, Agnes seemed almost _overly_ forthcoming with the details of her life, as though she relished the female company. She wasn't wearing a mask like Mrs. Mason or preening like the girls back home. She just _was_ , and she seemed satisfied with it.

Still, the last things she said made Rachel feel her face heat a bit.

"But your…" she stammered, "Your husband is dead, so why… why would you still want to… to do _that_ if you don't have to?" As soon as she said it, Rachel felt silly. Surely the innkeeper must need money to make ends meet sometimes and that would be an easy way to make a little extra. But Agnes' expression didn't hold the shame or indignation that Rachel would've expected; clearly that wasn't what was going on. Rather, she laughed behind her hand, shoulders heaving with the effort of stifling her chuckles.

"Silly girl! You know, if I didn't like something, I wouldn't do it!" Agnes chimed. The thought struck Rachel as a shock; she had never thought a woman could truly enjoy such things. And now that she heard the woman across from her openly say such a thing, it seemed ridiculous that Rachel had never thought so before. Then again, she'd never seen one who did enjoy herself before, either.

It was a bit of a hopeful revelation.

"What… What is it like?" Her voice was a whisper, conspiratorial even though they were alone in the little inn. The older woman's eyes flashed with mirth.

"A jolly little game of chase, most times," Agnes chittered. "Although the wolf boys make a bit of a mess." Rachel's expression must have been amusing because the other blonde laughed again. "Has that shaggy dog of yours not got under your skirts yet?"

Rachel covered her face and shook her head. Her cheeks burned from embarrassment, but Agnes seemed amused with herself.

"Well, dear," the older woman continued, "don't you worry. It only pinches a little the first time. It's right fun after that. And you don't have to do anything you don't want. If he tries to push it on ya, just give 'im one in the egg sack!" Rachel nearly laughed from the mental image of kicking Zack between the legs if he got out of line. She would never do it, would never have thought to do it, but the look on his face would probably be priceless.

"Ah, there ya go!" Agnes cheered. "You almost laughed! I knew ya had it in ya!"

Even though the small inn was empty, the other woman filled it with her presence. As the sun sunk down past the mountains, it stained the room reddish orange, almost as though it had been washed in fire. Rachel might have thought it ominous, but her mind was already occupied with thoughts of Zack. She had been unsure and afraid of the future before; now there was no question about what she had to do.

They continued in a companionable rapport for a while longer, Agnes chatting while Rachel mostly listened. The woman was open and cheerful and a bit more welcoming than normal. Rachel seemed to remind her of the daughter she never had, that if her husband had lived she _might_ have had. Rachel thought she might be sad or lonely because of it, but the other woman didn't seem to be. On the contrary, she was practically radiant as she indulged in Rachel's company.

As Rachel finished her bowl of soup, she nodded her head at the older woman. Her mirth died down and she gained a serious look. As the last light of the evening disappeared and bathed the room in wintery twilight, Agnes rose to light the chandeliers.

"Well," she breathed, smoothing her skirts and walking past Rachel, "I don't suppose I can talk ya out of it, can I?" Rachel solemnly shook her head. There was no question in her mind as to what she was going to do. She knew Zack would do the same for her; if he was able to walk, he was probably already wandering the woods looking for her.

"Your horse is in the stable outside," the innkeeper said, giving Rachel a piteous look. "Take the main road out front and make a left at the butcher's shop. Stay to the main road and ya might outrun them. Don't think you'll outsmart them in their own woods."

With those parting words, Agnes went about her business of lighting the lanterns and candelabras, humming a jaunty tune as she did so. Rachel picked up her basket from where she'd left it by her chair and headed toward the door.

She was going to find Zack or she was going to die trying.


	12. Chapter 12: Icy White

The last sliver of the moon was halfway through the sky when Rachel made it to the edge of town. Paul was undaunted by anything so far; Rachel patted his neck and gave him a soothing whisper as they both stalled. Once they crossed the threshold into the forest, they'd be hunted by the wolves there. She didn't think they'd hurt Paul if he was left alone, so it might be safe to tie him somewhere and continue on foot once she was close enough to the compound.

No, it was only Rachel they'd want to kill.

But she was small and she was quick. Since she'd passed out in the snow five days ago, between the Masons and Zack taking care of her, she'd grown much stronger. Now she was the strong one and she'd be the one to take care of Zack this time. She spurred Paul on, encouraging him to trot across the boundary of the woods. They were in the wolves' territory now.

Nearly as soon as Paul's hoof clapped onto the packed dirt road, Rachel heard a sigh pass through the bare branches overhead. The hair stood straight out on the back of her neck. A few seconds later, a howl split the night. They knew.

She kicked poor Paul as hard as she could in the ribs, snapping his reins to urge him to speed to a gallop. Even though the scenery moved by at a quick clip now, Rachel's memory was just as fast. This was close to where she and Zack had set up camp the night before. It was still a long way to their compound – anything could happen between here and there.

Another howl sounded ahead of her. They must have fanned out as a pack; certainly, Gray suspected she'd try to get back to Zack. Or it might be that this was their normal procedure when they banished someone from the monastery. Either way, she could hear movement in the bushes. It certainly wasn't that buck Zack had tried to hunt the day before.

No, she caught the reflective flash of moonlight on gold eyes. Her breath caught as Paul's gallop jarred her. Rachel knew it couldn't be Zack, but the sight was so familiar her heart ached. As the next howl sounded, it clearly came from the same area as those glowing eyes. The wolves were much closer now.

"Hurry, Paul!" Her voice was low and strained. Rachel silently cursed herself, though. What even was her plan? Charging headlong into a situation and trying to use brute force was Zack's domain. But she was desperate and worried enough that the fine details of planning had escaped her. Perhaps it was never going to be effective anyway; there was no stealth with this enemy. There was no way she'd be able to sneak past them.

Even as Paul sped past bushes and bare trees on the packed dirt road, Rachel could see more sets of eyes. How many wolves were in Gray's pack? She could hear the snarls and howls; she lowered her head and kept riding. A brush of claws against her cloak caused her to widen her eyes and spur Paul even faster.

But as they raced forward, there seemed to be a gap in the sets of eyes and the time between howls grew longer. Rachel was suspicious but didn't slow down either. If they were going to attack, now was probably the opportune time.

Her right hand slid into the basket on her left arm. Even if she couldn't light her pitch sticks while galloping, having her hand cannon in her hand was at least having already taken one step forward. If she was lucky, she might be able to scare one of the wolves off with it; if worse came to worst, she might even be able to get a good shot in if she was allowed to stop long enough to light her powder pan.

But glaring off to her right-hand side, a glint caught the corner of her eye. Even though they were going fairly fast, the next things that happened seemed to go by in slow motion.

First, the wolf emerged from the brambles, claws outstretched and hooded robe unfurling behind him. Rachel's eyes widened as his hands curled into her cloak; a moment later, she was unseated and flying towards the other side of the road. The wolf didn't release her, instead holding her cloak tightly as they sailed through the air. Just before they collided with the ground, the wolf wrapped his arms tightly around Rachel, bracing her as they fell.

When she tried to push off the ground, however, she found herself pinned face-down into the dirt. The wolf – decidedly lighter and smaller than Zack – sat with his bottom right on the small of her back; his clawed hands were pushing her shoulders down. She could even feel his tail wag.

"I got 'er!"

It was one of the brothers who'd shown her to her room in the compound last night. By his tone, she guessed it was Jean-Marc. Maybe she could talk them out of whatever they had planned. As she struggled, though, his hands traveled to the tie of her cloak, stripping it off her.

"What are you-?!"

"H-Hey, stop struggling, Sister Rachel!"

As soon as he finished removing the cloak, his weight lifted from Rachel's back. She didn't hesitate; she rolled over onto her back, sat up, and aimed the hand cannon right in the middle of the young wolf's forehead. Before she could get her pitch stick, however, he put his hands up, palms out, dropping her cloak to the ground.

"I won't," she said quietly. "I'm going to take Zack back. I won't let anyone get in my way, not even you." She could tell her words had hurt him, but it didn't matter; if she could scare him off easily, she could continue on with less trouble.

"I told you to be gentle, you brute."

The voice belonged to Jean-Marc's twin, Jean-Luc. Rachel flicked her blue eyes upwards to acknowledge him. He held Paul's reins, walking the sweating horse back towards their place in the brambles.

"I _was_ gentle!" he protested. "And she pulled a hand cannon on me!" Rachel pressed the barrel to his head and made direct eye contact with Jean-Luc.

"Of course she did," he snapped quietly. "She probably thought her virtue was in danger." Paul nickered and shook his head, but the young wolf's hand held his reins tight.

"I don't care about that," Rachel replied. "Let me go find Zack." Jean-Luc's expression remained even.

"That's what we wanted to do," he said. Rachel didn't lower the cannon, but she was intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

"Jean-Marc, give her your cloak," Jean-Luc ordered. "Hurry up, they'll get suspicious soon." His brother went to comply with a grunt and Rachel backed off a bit. In a moment, he'd tossed his robe into her lap and had begun putting on her cloak.

"What are you-?"

The curly-haired wolf gave Rachel a cherubic smile as he stood, her red cloak firmly in place around his neck.

"Well, how do I look?" Jean-Luc appraised him for a second before nodding confidently.

"Good enough," he agreed. "Here. Take the horse and gallop him to the next checkpoint. I'll go ahead and send the signal." Jean-Marc nodded and took Paul's reins. In another moment, he had hoisted himself into the saddle, a bulky shadow that even Rachel had to admit looked passingly like her.

"I know, I know!" Jean-Marc huffed. "I'll do my part, so you do yours!"

And with a snap, he was off. As soon as Paul began to gallop again, Jean-Luc howled from deep in his chest. Rachel couldn't explain why, but the sound sent a chill down her back. But as soon as he was done, he turned to her with a serious expression.

"Hurry and put the robe on," he ordered, pulling her away from the road and back into the forest. "Your scent will be harder to find if you wear that." As they moved away from the road, another howl sounded farther down. They must have had checkpoints along the road to track her.

Rachel did as she was told. Their logic was beginning to become clear.

"That's why Jean-Marc took my cloak?" She followed the young wolf closely, ducking tree branches and prickly thickets alike. More howls sounded from farther into the forest.

"That's right," he confirmed. "He'll be our decoy, and as long as he smells like you, he'll throw them off for a while." So they _were_ going to help her. How very strange. But maybe it made sense; only teenagers would be rebellious enough to defy someone as powerful as Gray.

"I don't understand why," Rachel said quietly, still following along behind. "You've only met me once. There's no reason for you to help me." First Agnes and now these two. It made no sense. Rachel simply couldn't see herself as someone worth helping; by rights, Jean-Luc and Jean-Marc would've been better off dashing her head to the ground when they knocked her off the horse. But Jean-Luc didn't slow down. He led her further into the forest.

"We don't know you, but we know Brother Isaac," he said firmly. "And you're his bond-mate. He'll probably die without you, and we don't want that. It's too sad." Rachel couldn't see the wolf's face but she could tell his expression was troubled. She didn't know how to ask him about it, though. So instead she asked the next most relevant thing.

"You keep saying 'bond-mate'," she asked, tilting her head within the baggy brown hood. "Can you explain that?" This actually caused Jean-Luc to stop and look at her in confusion.

"Even little pups know about bonding," he said in quiet awe. "Brother Isaac didn't tell you?" Rachel shook her head, the hood slapping her cheeks.

"He's the first wolf I've ever met," she replied as they paused under the bare branches of the sleeping trees. "All I know is that another human mentioned it and he got really angry. I don't understand why." Jean-Luc had apparently gotten over his shock, as he began walking again.

"Well, it's probably because you're his mate and he's protective," the younger wolf said as casually as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "When wolves get old enough and want to start their own packs, they find their bond-mate and stay together for life. Me and Jean-Marc can't do that 'cuz we're gonna take vows, though. But it's alright - there's not usually enough she-wolves to go around, especially not around here. Maybe in the south, though."

Rachel absorbed this information with great interest. Jean-Luc spoke much more politely than Zack – she noted that Zack would have simply said "bitches" rather than "she-wolves", primarily – but the ideas intrigued her. 'Bonding' sounded like marriage, but more as a partnership. And while she could understand his reluctance to be bonded to her specifically – no man of good character would want her anyway – Zack seemed to hate the idea entirely. She wondered if that was unusual.

"He said he didn't want to bond with anyone," she recounted to Jean-Luc as they continued pushing past the brush. "Do you know why?" The wolf didn't seem surprised or impressed.

"He never really listened to Father Gray's sermons about chastity or anything else, I don't think," Jean-Luc reasoned without missing a beat. "So someone close to him probably died from their bond." Rachel's eyebrows rose. Even if she didn't entirely want to die anymore, was she going to cause Zack to die now?

"He can die from it?"

"It happens," Jean-Luc said softly. "Our father was killed and our mother wasted away without him, so it can kill a wolf. But… humans die like that sometimes, too, right?" Rachel thought she understood. If she hadn't been killed by that illness, her mother probably would have eventually been killed by her father, one way or the other; whether from a beating or one dose too many of tansy seed oil, her mother's days had been numbered as soon as she was married to her father. But this sounded slightly different. Instead of being killed by him, it sounded as if the brothers' mother had simply pined until she died of heartbreak, leaving her pups behind.

It seemed nearly unbelievable that something like that could happen to Zack. In the first place, she couldn't imagine anyone caring about her enough to die simply from her absence. Furthermore, Zack didn't seem like the type to waste away from longing. But Jean-Luc seemed convinced this was the case, and Zack's reaction to the topic led Rachel to believe that at least _they_ believed it. Still, she remained skeptical.

What woman would miss her husband enough that she could die from it? What kind of man would die from missing his wife?

"I haven't heard of it," Rachel said softly, gently shaking her head. Jean-Luc seemed a bit surprised, but the conversation died as they continued on. It was just as well; Rachel's mind was busy with the new information she had received.

Would Zack die if they were separated for too long? If she died now, wouldn't it be the same thing? Could she ever feel that strongly about him? If she couldn't, was it really fair for him to have to? What if they were all wrong and he hadn't bonded with her at all? Would he be angry with her for seeking him out?

Before she could exhaust herself with more questions, Jean-Luc stopped, coming to a great, wooden wall that Rachel recognized as the fence of the compound. He seemed to be looking for something in particular.

"We're here," he whispered, glancing around keenly. His clawed fingers dug into a crack in the wood, pulling it away from the wall nearly silently. It came away as easily as if it hadn't been fitted in place, and Rachel assumed it hadn't.

"Me and Jean-Marc sneak out to play in the woods sometimes," he explained as he ushered her through the split in the wall. "Father Gray and the other adults don't know about this, so we can go in this way without the watchman seeing." She followed him through the break in the wood, their cloaks swishing softly around them.

"Is Zack still in the infirmary?" Rachel asked anxiously. Jean-Luc led her to the shadowy side of one of the wattle and daub buildings, sticking closely to the walls as they traveled through the dark. The dim light reflected off the wolf's golden eyes as he glanced back at her.

"Yeah," came the hushed reply. "Brother Jean-Gabriel has kept him in there all day." Rachel's eyebrows pinched. That was the wolf she'd seen take Zack away the night before.

"Will we have to go through him?" She didn't mind killing him if he got in her way, but she doubted the young wolf would be eager to help her.

"He left when the others did," Jean-Luc whispered. "He should be out in the woods right now, too." Rachel thought that was fairly odd; why would he leave his patient to go hunting for her? But she wasn't about to make a fuss about it. It was a lucky break for them.

"That's good," she returned quietly. The two were approaching the backside of a long building. The door was further down the wall, marked by a plain woodpile with a light dusting of snow left on top. Jean-Luc easily opened the unguarded door, swinging it inward silently. In another moment, they were both inside the dark room, which Rachel could see was a fairly well-stocked kitchen. There was a pang of regret at moving past there; if it wasn't for her, Zack could have stayed through the winter and been well-fed. Jean-Luc didn't seem to notice.

They passed through quickly, though. Rachel tried her best to learn the layout of the building as they went, in case the knowledge became necessary. It was all simple hallways with packed dirt floors, nearly as solid as stone. The doorways flew by and Rachel lost count of how many she'd seen. Finally, Jean-Luc paused before one shut door and laid a clawed hand on it.

"This is it," he huffed quietly, not even glancing back at her. "This is the infirmary." Rachel stepped up to the door, ready to open it. Before she could put her hand on the knob, it swung sharply inward, revealing an incensed Zack.

"If you assholes hurt a hair on her head, I swear I'll kill everyone in -"

Rachel stared up at him blankly, although the truth was that her heart was thumping hard in her chest. Zack trailed off in his ranting; from the expression on his face, she figured he must have caught her scent.

"What the fu-"

In a flash, he'd snapped a hand out to her hood, whipping it away from her head to reveal her face. Rachel watched Zack's expression cycle through surprise to relief and finally settling on his standard anger. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently as he growled.

" _Are you a fuckin idiot!?_ " he yelled, his panic coming through clearly. "The whole damn compound is out looking for you!" Rachel met his eyes plainly, showing no fear or anger. Rather, she was deeply relieved.

"You're alright." Zack paused for a second to absorb what Rachel was saying before snarling again in frustration.

"Of course I am!" he huffed indignantly. "I'm fine! But you won't be if they get ahold of you, dumbass!" But all Rachel could do was lift her hands to the sides of Zack's face, smoothing her thumb over his bandages. He was real and warm and alive under her fingers, nearly causing her to smile.

"I'm so glad," she breathed, feeling tears gather in the corner of her eyes. Zack's eyes widened as he watched her, confused but, Rachel thought, somewhat sympathetic. The hands on her shoulders relaxed their grip, moving from a desperate clutch to something closer to a firm caress.

"Stupid," Zack finally grumbled, shaking his head and causing his ears to flap. "You shoulda just waited. I'd have come to find you as soon as they let me go." Rachel shook her head; that was simply unacceptable. Instead, she released Zack's face and buried her head against his chest. She breathed in his smell - earth and fur and medicine – and clutched his tunic. She could even hear his strong heartbeat inside his chest. Sighing, Zack eventually brought a hand to her back and gave her an awkward stroke. It was obvious he was unused to the close contact.

But he didn't push her away, either.

"We should hurry," Jean-Luc finally interrupted, looking sharply from side to side. "Jean-Marc will keep them busy for a few minutes, but it's best if we leave as soon as possible." Reluctantly, Rachel pulled away and looked up at Zack curiously. His expression was inscrutable, as though he was thinking about something. After a moment, he seemed to make up his mind as his gaze flickered to their young companion.

"Alright, lemme get my shit together," he grumbled. "Jean-Gabriel will probably be back before the others, so we gotta get out before he sees you." Zack retreated into the room then, leaving the door open behind him in a silent order for them to follow. Rachel watched quietly as he rushed to the bedside to grab his boots and sat to put them on; his cloak was slung over the end of the bed and the table beside him had a bottle with some kind of dark liquid that Rachel could only assume was medicine. Other than that, there was nothing of interest in the infirmary.

Curious, Rachel moved around the bed to examine the medicine. She picked the bottle of inky fluid up and inspected it carefully. For something that was supposed to heal, it looked quite foreboding.

"Is this really medicine?" she asked, more to herself than to anyone else. She was just about to uncork it to smell it before Zack snatched it away from her. Startled, she looked over to him. He had finished putting his boots on, but as he took that bottle from her, his eyes flashed a warning. She took a half-step back in surprise.

"Don't touch it," he warned. "It's not for you."

It was certainly a bit disconcerting, but Rachel tried not to think about it. Instead, Zack pulled a satchel from the bedside table and stowed the black bottle inside it. Then he tied it around his waist.

"C'mon, let's go," he snapped, rising from the bed. Jean-Luc seemed uneasy about something; Rachel observed him curiously as the younger wolf fidgeted.

"You're really going to take that?" he asked softly. Zack's ears flicked in annoyance.

"It's in case of emergency," he explained, not looking straight at the pup. "If I really wanted to drink it, I would have done it by now." Rachel felt like she was missing a key piece of context, but didn't ask. They were running out of time.

"Okay," she confirmed, cutting off the tense conversation. "Zack, we can discuss it later if you want. But we should go." His mismatched golden eyes flickered back in Rachel's direction before wrapping his clawed fingers around her wrist and pulling her along behind him. In a moment, they were out the door and rushing back the way they had come.

As they moved through the halls, though, Rachel noticed something was off about Zack's stride; he was favoring his uninjured side and slower than usual. With his free hand, he also seemed to be covering the place that she knew he'd been wounded.

"Will you be alright?" she asked softly. "Are you well enough to ride Paul?" He shot her a very quick, sharp look, but didn't slow down.

"Stop worrying about me, dammit," he groused. "I'm not the one with a death sentence on their head for trespassing!" Rachel's eyes widened but she didn't protest; it was true. If they were caught, Zack might be punished but Rachel would certainly be killed on the spot. And if what Jean-Luc said earlier was even remotely true, Zack would want to avoid that at all costs.

"Right," she murmured. "Where should we go from here?" Zack was about to answer when Jean-Luc did it for him.

"Father Gray doesn't have any authority outside of the woods," Jean-Luc volunteered. "Once you're back in town, you should be safe."

"Let's just go right through," Zack proposed. "He's still friends with the humans down there. They'll give him Ray if he asks." They passed through the kitchen in a flash and were back outside again. Rachel shook her head as they made their way back to the fence.

"No," she said firmly. "You say you're fine, but you still need to rest. We can stay at the tavern they put me in. I think we can trust the owner." Jean-Luc's ears flicked at that. By this point, they were back at the fence. As the younger wolf lifted the trick board out of the way, he spoke.

"I've seen her arguing with Father Gray before," Jean-Luc confirmed. "I don't think she'll just do what he says without protest." Rachel nodded as they passed through the hole in the wall.

"If nothing else, you can have my bed and I can sleep in the stables to hide," she said. Zack bristled.

"Like hell," he growled. "You sleep with me." Rachel was genuinely confused.

"But there's a bed," she protested, "and it's warm there. You don't need to-" Zack paused as they reentered the woods, his back turned to Rachel. She couldn't see his face, but she was sure his expression was stern.

"You're the one that needs the heat, not me," he barked, eyes closed. "I'm not gonna budge on this, either, so don't bother. You're a weak little shit, anything could happen to you if you wander off. If you don't wanna sleep with me, I'll sleep on the floor. But we ain't splittin' up. Got it?" Rachel felt her cheeks burn; he probably didn't mean anything by it, but she couldn't help but feel shy.

"A-Alright," she said quietly.

"I can guess the kinda shit these guys have probably been tellin' you," he spat. "Don't get any weird ideas, though, alright? It's just like normal." Rachel could feel the nervousness underneath his tone, though. But the truth of the matter was that it didn't feel like normal. Something imperceptible had changed between them, and Rachel had to wonder if it was only on her end or not. Maybe something had changed with Zack a while ago and she hadn't really noticed it until now.

Either way, he began moving again, pulling her along by the hand. They followed quickly behind Jean-Luc, who seemed to know exactly where they were going.

"Jean-Marc will meet us soon with your horse," he explained. "He knows where we're gonna be, he just needs a few minutes to take the others on a chase." As if on cue, the soft sounds of hoofbeats approached, alerting them to Jean-Marc's return. Rachel exhaled a cloud of icy breath as she caught sight of him.

He was blood-splattered, his face and arms scratched deeply. Her cloak hung limply from his shoulders and his wavy hair clung to his wet forehead. She could even see that the long red cloak had a big tear down the back, where she assumed another wolf had snagged him. Still, wet and bedraggled, Jean-Marc tossed the group a lopsided smile. Before even saying anything, Rachel began pulling the rough brown robe off her shoulders and Jean-Luc reached for Paul's reins.

"I let 'em chase me into the river and gave 'em the slip," Jean-Marc nearly bragged. "Can't catch me if they can't smell me!" Rachel thought it was quite clever, but Jean-Luc's ears flattened to his head.

"You idiot," he scolded as Jean-Marc dismounted. "You'll get sick from going in the river in the cold like that! That's not even mentioning the poor horse!" Rachel could see little ice crystals forming on poor Paul's legs, but said nothing. Surely he'd run them off on the way back to Agnes' tavern.

As soon as Jean-Marc's feet hit the ground, he offered Rachel back her cloak. She took it, giving him back his robe, and realized her cloak was soaked through with icy water. As soon as it hit her hands, she heard Zack click his tongue in disapproval.

"Forget the damn horse," he grumbled, " _Ray's_ gonna get sick." Rachel's eyes widened. Was Zack always this protective and she just hadn't thought about it before? Or was it genuinely something he hadn't done before? Maybe he was still reacting to the last time she had gotten sick? Either way, it was a strange, alien feeling; Rachel wasn't sure how to feel about someone else being so concerned with her well-being.

"Stop spacin' out," she heard Zack grunt. Before she could react, he'd wrapped his hands around her waist and hefted her into Paul's saddle. "And don't you dare put on that wet rag."

"Eh?" She hadn't intended to; it was cold with only her overdress on, but with her cloak as wet as it was, it would only make things worse. She'd be warmer in just her dress.

Zack climbed into his usual place behind her in the saddle and grabbed the horse's reins. Once those were secured, he pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his cloak around her. Suddenly, even though it was probably just for warmth, Rachel was hyperaware of their closeness. She could feel his sculpted stomach muscles, his claws digging into her dress, even his firm thighs cradling her.

"If you get sick again, I'll kick your ass," he grumbled. Whatever stray thoughts she might have had were killed in their tracks. Instead, Rachel realized they were ready to leave the pups behind.

"A-Ahem," she coughed, trying to distance herself from how warm she was now with Zack's cloak around her. "What will you two do now?" Jean-Marc gave them a cheeky smile and Jean-Luc nodded firmly.

"Don't worry about us," the former replied. "We're good at getting ourselves out of trouble!"

"They probably won't figure out it was us," Jean-Luc continued. "So if we don't see you again, be well, alright?"

"And when you have pups, we can be their godfathers, right?" Jean-Marc concluded with a mischievous grin. Rachel felt Zack bristle behind her.

"Like hell, you little shits!" he snapped, shaking his fist at them. "If Gray doesn't kick your asses, I will!" Rachel shook her head.

"Zack." His mouth snapped shut as the two pups gave him satisfied looks, barely suppressing their laughter. But now it was Rachel's turn to speak.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I probably wouldn't have made it without you." Zack grumbled behind her.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "I guess I owe you guys." They both chuckled.

"You guys should go," Jean-Marc said firmly. "They'll only stay confused for so long." Rachel nodded her understanding and took the reins from Zack. With a snap of the straps, they were on their way.

Paul had been through a bit of a rough ride, if the frozen sweat and deep scratches were anything to go by. Rachel didn't want to push him any more than he had been, so she kept his trot lively but not too fast. There was also the problem that they were picking their way through the woods instead of a proper path. If the wolves struck them before they made it back to the road, the unsure footing of the forest might cause Paul to trip, or worse.

Aside from the concentration required for that, the silence between her and Zack was awkward and alien. They were used to traveling without speaking for long stretches of time, but this felt different. It felt like there was now a lot to say between them, but that neither one of them knew how. Then again, maybe it was just on her end; maybe Zack had nothing else he wanted to say and she was just overthinking things.

"Hey," he grunted, almost in response to Rachel's churning thoughts. "Those assholes probably filled your head with a lot of nonsense." Rachel shook her head, resolved not to make things strained between them.

"N-Not really," she replied softly. Zack squeezed her waist in retribution.

"Don't lie to me," he huffed. "Look, I don't want you to get any weird ideas about… about the shit that's been goin' on. Or think I'm a fuckin' pervert like those Masons. But this ain't a great place to talk about important shit, so it can wait until we're safe. Alright?"

Rachel nodded, heart thumping in her ears. What was the unfamiliar feeling in her chest? Hope? Relief? Dread? Whatever it was, there was no point in worrying about it until they were back at the tavern.

As they approached the main road, the sounds of wolves baying from further into the forest reached their ears. Zack tensed against her back; he could understand what they were saying better than her.

"Hurry and get to the road," Zack hissed. "They've realized you're on this side of the river." Rachel's heart lodged in her throat.

"What about the brothers?" The road was in sight now. Once they got onto it, it would be a very quick trip back into the city limits.

"I think they know they're missing," he observed. "I don't think they've been caught yet, though." Rachel gritted her teeth and steeled herself in the saddle.

"Once they catch them, they'll know we escaped," she reasoned, finally reaching the road. As soon as Paul's hooves struck the packed dirt road, Rachel snapped his reins, urging him into a gallop. It was only a bit further and hopefully he would forgive her for all the stress.

"Right," Zack replied, leaning in to keep her warm. "I hope this place isn't far, or they're definitely gonna catch up to us!" The howls growing ever nearer told Rachel that Zack was right; they weren't on their heels yet, but between realizing that Rachel was still at large and the sound of Paul's heavy hoofbeats, there was no way they wouldn't figure out where they were. She leaned into the gallop, hoping against hope that their horse would last at least until they left the woods.

It wasn't exactly a long ride, but to Rachel it felt like an eternity. Whether it was because she was dreading whatever Zack had to say to her or because she knew there wasn't much time left for them to escape, she couldn't tell.

Finally, the edge of the woods was just in sight. As Paul crossed it, a loud howl erupted from the trees. The cacophony followed them down the trail back into town, ringing in Rachel's ears and drowning out the sound of the horse's hooves. Drawing a gasp out of her, Zack squeezed Rachel around the middle again.

"You can relax a little now," he murmured into her hair. "They won't raid the town. But they're _really_ pissed. And they haven't even realized I'm gone, either." Rachel clutched the reins tightly, slowing Paul to a trot. She couldn't afford to waste time walking him out or rubbing him down once they stopped. She hoped he'd be fine with a blanket and a bag of oats. She'd have to brush him in the morning.

"The hell did you even do to piss off Gray?" Zack sighed, more to himself than anything. "He knows I _eat_ people and he didn't even get that pissed about it." Rachel felt her insides freeze; that was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Fortunately, Zack didn't seem to actually care. Instead, he leaned into her, slumping a little in the saddle.

"Oh," Rachel muttered, realizing something important. "Is your wound okay?" Zack leaned back again, making a noise somewhere between a growl and a bleat.

"Haaaaaah!? Are you freakin' kiddin' me!? Did you really just change the subject?!" Rachel shook her head weakly.

"I'm fine! I'm not some weak little pup!" he continued, his voice cross. "Stop fussing over this shit! I can still kill anything that looks at me wrong, so quit worrying already!" Rachel figured he must be hurting to be so adamant that he wasn't. Before he could protest any more, though, they were underneath the awning of Agnes' stable.

"We're here," Rachel stated plainly. "Let's hurry up and put Paul away and get inside." Zack huffed and Rachel felt the hand that wasn't on her waist travel to his side; he needed to rest.

Putting Paul back into the stable that Agnes had housed him in was a simple enough matter. In a couple of minutes, Rachel had dismounted along with Zack, led the horse to his stall, thrown a blanket over his sweaty flanks, and tied his feedbag onto his face. The whole time, Zack slumped against the stable walls, clutching his side and gritting his teeth. Rachel knew he wouldn't lie to her, but it was obvious he was in pain. The sooner they were inside, the better.

Finally finished, Rachel walked to him and ducked under his arm on his wounded side.

"Here," she said softly. "Let's go inside." She was sure Zack was about to protest, but he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he allowed her to lead him inside, leaning on her for support.

"Haaaah," he groaned as they made their way to the front of the tavern. "I'm pathetic, ain't I? Letting a fragile little stick prop me up like this…" Rachel shook her head and continued walking to the safety of the inn.

"It's not pathetic," Rachel said softly. "And I want to be here. I'll make sure you get better, Zack." His only response was a grunt, but Rachel thought he took it well.

Finally, they were at the door. Pushing it open without preamble, Rachel led Zack right through without hesitation.

"Agnes, we-"

Before any other words could escape her mouth, she looked up. The tavern was well-lit, the chandeliers burning as well as the grand fireplace across the great dining hall from them. But that wasn't what had caught her attention.

Standing directly across from them, not three meters away was Agnes and a visitor. He had the customary brown robe of the monks, as well as a pair of sandy blond pointed ears atop his hair. Face framed by a cascade of curls, he turned to glare at the two of them. Zack simply sputtered.

"Jean-Gabriel!?"


End file.
